


Sophomore Slump

by btvsp2082



Series: Between Seacrest and Revello [4]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2364293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/btvsp2082/pseuds/btvsp2082
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-S5 episode, "The Body" of BtVS, and post-series for VM. Life's a bitch, then someone dies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy. :-)
> 
> Still don't own anything.

Everyone returned to the house. Keith first, then Dawn and Tara, Xander and Anya, Giles, Mac and Willow, Wallace...Veronica and Buffy were last. No one really wanted to talk.

What was there to say after a funeral for a woman who'd felt like a mother to those in the group young enough to be her child? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

They all stood in the foyer rather awkwardly, waiting for something to happen, and Dawn gave it to them. She stepped toward the living room, but stopped short. Tara stayed close by.

"I hate that couch," Dawn broke the silence with that quiet, angry declaration, her puffy eyes having run dry. "I never wanna be here again."

It had been a rough year for the girl. Learning you weren't real, but instead, a mystical construct shaped by monks in order to escape a hell-god’s detection, couldn't be easy. Didn't seem sane.

Other than Dawn herself, Faith took it hardest. Her friendship with Buffy's little sister meant a lot. It’s what could always pull her from the dark place.

Since finding out it was made up, that the girl hadn’t ever been around, Faith wasn't around. But real or not, with Joyce gone, Dawn didn’t need anybody else leaving too. Thank goodness Tara understood that.

"Do you wanna come sleep over, sweetie?" she asked. Nobody could fault Dawn for her reaction. "If-if it's o-okay with Buffy."

Eyes turned to the slayer-in-question, and though they saw her, she might as well have not been there. Veronica answered on Buffy’s behalf--she'd gotten used to it over the past few days.

"Sure. Thanks, Tara."

 

______

 

Had she and Buffy not transferred to UC Sunnydale for sophomore year, they would’ve missed out on knowing the blond witch. Tara was in Buffy's "Greek Art" class last semester; they got paired on a project.

Un-shy about her relationship, Buffy quickly learned Tara their story, and in kind, learned that Tara was also fond of the fairer sex. Soon enough, slaying and witchcraft came out of the closet as well. Fit her right in.

If there was a gentler soul in the world than Tara Maclay, they'd be hard-pressed to find them. Which was why Veronica had really, really, _really_ wanted to Taser the girl's asshole father. It made her count her blessings once again, that she had Keith Mars to thank for her conception.

When did Dawn start hugging her? When did Dawn get tall?

"Take care of my sister, okay?" Dawn whispered to Veronica. "I'm gonna go get some stuff."

In a flash, footsteps rushed up the stairs, snapping people out of their mute funk.

"I'll, um, help her pack." Tara went up next, albeit more carefully.

 

______

 

Willow watched, slowly starting to nod. "Me too, I'm gonna help too. Dawnie sorta turns into a rat when she’s packing. Not literally with whiskers'n'all, but uh, Tara could definitely need reinforcements."

Veronica and Mac shared a knowing look.

The hacking duo roomed together at Hearst this year, but then Willow came home at Fall Break and met Tara. She hadn't dated since Oz, caught up in plans for world domination, but one gaze across a room, and the tractor beam of love sucked her in.

Things were moving slow as molasses though. First, Tara was convinced Willow was with Mac. Buffy and Veronica had to assure her that wasn’t the case. They shared nerdism, not lesbianism.

Second, both Willow and Tara thought they'd be completely out of their depth. Willow dabbled during high school, but drifted from magick upon befriending Mac. Tara had practiced her entire life, and didn’t get technology. She only knew she liked Willow.

With Mac leaving the single life for Max--the nice young man who prospered from his fellow students’ desire to learn as little as possible--Willow felt pressured to find someone.

Buffy and Veronica had intended to speed the process up, when now happened.

 

______

 

"If everyone's so uncomfortable, then why're we standing here?" Anya asked bluntly and curiously. "I thought the ritual was over. We sat there, we pretended that priest actually made us feel better, we forced ourselves to watch the coffin go into the ground..."

"Ahn!" Xander reproached as hushed as he could.

Buffy laughed. It wasn't happy. It was hard to tell what it was. She returned long enough to realize she wasn't alone, and became the fourth person to retreat upstairs. Still hadn't spoken.

Wallace took that as a cue. "Hey, X...mind if I crash at your place tonight? Kinda don't feel like drivin' right now."

"Then prepare for more 'Midnight Scrabble Showdown’ wackiness," Xander lightly joked before walking up to Veronica and giving her a quick hug. "We're skedaddling. If she needs anything..."

Veronica smiled at him and Wallace. "Get outta here. But you boys better play nice, or else. Remember, no matter how hard we wish it true...'Cheeky Monkey'? Still not in the Dictionary."

"I'll swing by tomorrow before I head back,” said Wallace, glancing upstairs. "She needs you, Veronica."

"I know."

 

______

 

The most difficult part of moving out of Neptune was not seeing him and Mac every day. But once her dad lost the election for sheriff to Vinnie Van Lowe (who'd gone from a sleazy private-dick to a sleazy, Fitzpatrick plant), the Marses felt they'd overstayed their welcome. The town was going to hell, but they'd been spit on too many times to care.

Besides, Veronica had the feeling Vinnie and Liam Fitzpatrick may have made certain charges disappear in exchange for her father leaving and never looking back. It was an evil, corrupt world. At least in Sunnydale, evil was upfront.

So Veronica and Keith said adios to their apartment, shacked up with their women, and reopened Mars Investigations on the Hellmouth.

After that mess with the Castle and Jake Kane, she just hoped Wallace was watching his back. Like she should've been watching hers. Anya tackled her in a very unsettling embrace. A few long seconds later, nothing was said by either of them.

A few seconds after that, only Veronica, Mac, Keith and Giles remained. Awkward silence returned.

Mac was rocking on the balls of her feet. "Uh, I think I'm gonna go...practice being a fourth wheel. Or something."

She bolted upstairs, then there were three.

 

______

 

 Father smiled at daughter, and daughter lost it. She crushed him in a hug. "I'm so sorry, Dad."

Giles walked into the living room, giving them privacy.

"So am I, kiddo," Keith said back to her. "So am I." More than she would ever know. "But don't worry about your old man."

"Worry about my old lady instead?" she sniffed, a chuckle breaking as it left her throat. "I do."

"Then get up there," he advised. "Buffy needs someone to be angry at; she's all bottled up because she doesn't wanna take it out on the wrong people. But sometimes ya have to."

There was a safe way, and a dangerous way. He didn't want Buffy going for the latter.

"And who's better than my daughter at getting someone so--"

"Peeved?" Veronica supplied innocently.

"--that they can't hold back even if they want to?"

Never had she heard her innate ability to piss off the masses, so...legitimized. She'd accept it as a compliment. They separated, Veronica wiping her eyes and heading upstairs.

Until she turned around. "Oh, so you know? You're only allowed to die metaphorically. On the dance floor for example. Because your groove just isn't coming back."

As she climbed the rest of the way, the smile Keith wore for her left. He went into the living room, seeing Giles looking at the family photos on the fireplace's mantle. Keith breathed deep, rubbing the back of his head.

"Want a drink?"

"At the moment? More than bloody anything."

 

________

 

"Buffy?" Veronica called, reaching their bedroom door.

The basement was made up for Faith when the house welcomed its new occupants.

Hearing nothing except muffled words and movement from Dawn's room, Veronica opened the door to discover Backup inside, and an opened window. She ran to it, noting the pulled out weapons chest.

Buffy had climbed down the tree. Why didn't she expect that? After everything? Shit.

_‘You're off your game, Veronica. So get the hell on it. Fast.’_


	2. Two

_~Christmas Eve Day, 2006~_

_"How is she?" Veronica immediately asked when Logan opened the door to his Neptune Grand suite and she pushed inside, briefly spotting the cuts on the right side of his face._

_"What’s black and blue and red all over?" he answered, butchering a classic joke to give his assessment. ”Aaron would be shocked and awed."_

_“May he rest in hell,” she commented distractedly, walking ahead of her ex into the bedroom._

_Buffy was just coming out of the connected bathroom, limping and pressing a wet paper towel to her arm. Veronica’s face went from concern to anger in no time at all. She couldn’t gauge her girlfriend’s reaction, because her girlfriend was busy wincing._

_“Spry though,” said Logan, stepping up next to Veronica._

_The heavy silence continued as if he hadn’t spoken, so he looked to his bed._

_“Pillow’s empty,” he sighed regretfully. “So much for that minty-fresh afternoon I had planned. And speaking of the lack of good Help these days, Juanita clearly doesn’t have her Hoover technique down._

_“Frankly? I’m tired of it; my carpet oughta receive the same, ‘hands-on’ attention hers does. Management_ will _hear about this.”_

_They didn’t even hear him “storm out.”_

_“Ribs’re broken, aren’t they?” Veronica could tell by the way Buffy moved. “Turn yourself right ‘round, baby--‘round as a record might go. All the way back to that porcelain throne,” she ordered even as she came over to assist._

_“Y’do know what ‘recon’ means, yes? Here’s a hint--it doesn’t mean, ‘get yourself eyeballed and whomped on like a redneck during Cops.’”_

_She sat Buffy on the lidded toilet, placed her bag on the expensive, oversized sink, and proceeded to empty out much gauze, disinfectant, and other First Aid items._

_“Did you rob a hospital?” Buffy asked in surprise, but was ignored. “I know I promised, but they were...so smart-thinking went away...and, ow.”_

________

_This was all the fault of a dead Father Christmas. Playing a hunch, Veronica called the local mall. It was indeed short one Santa. A Santa who’d left work alive and well the day before._

_While she went to see what she could glean from the guy’s co-workers (including info on any suspicious “people” they may have noticed), Buffy got on the trail of the vampires responsible, starting at the mall and letting her slayer senses lead._

_They led her to children living in a perpetually for sale, ‘09er mansion. Only the children hadn’t been children in a long time. Those_ weresmall _bite marks on Chris Cringle’s neck._

_Veronica knelt down and took her girlfriend’s hands in hers. There was something in her eye. “Are you okay?”_

_“I froze. Even after I knew. A slayer can’t freeze--she either gets dead, or looks like me.” Buffy and self-blame went together like P.B. & J. “But I couldn’t...kill kids.”_

_“Be glad this,” Veronica stood back up, “didn’t end worse. Jacket’s comin’ off.”_

_She helped her patient do so gingerly. “Can’t exactly bounce back from that grim fandango we call ‘death.’”_

_There was one more layer in the way._

_“Now then, let’s check out those headlights...” Her brow waggled. “_ Schnell _.”_

_Buffy managed a smile prior to unbuttoning her blouse. “Least I got the hot nurse.”_

_“If you’re trying to butter me up...” Veronica wanted to pretend it didn’t work, but she was weak. “...continue.”_

_Blouse discarded, she wasn’t looking at bra-covered breasts; she was looking at ribs. “Broken” wasn’t what they were. Her breath hitched._

_“Oh hell.” Her anger flared. “So...the undead, ‘Brat Pack’...promise me they fried up nice, slow, and crispy.”_

________

_Not that it mattered anymore, but she’d seen them on the mall’s security footage. They gave her the creeps. Compelled Veronica to do “Scooby”-esque research._

_This hadn’t been the first Santa they’d cacked. Matter of fact, they’d developed quite a complex about anything Christmas-related over the centuries. That’s when they all got sired. By Zachary Kralik. After he ate their mothers._

_Boo hoo. Evil little bastards._

_“Thanks to Logan.” Buffy hated saying that. “When did he even...?”_

_It was bad enough she got beaten by vampires physically no older than ten, but to be saved by Logan Echolls and his rich buddies...it was embarrassing. And she was pretty sure his motives were split between wanting to destroy evil in his neighborhood, and just wanting to destroy. Why did boys like to watch stuff burn?_

_“Way I heard the tale? A lazy Saturday, ‘Lost Boys’ on the box--TNT, I believe it was--and he says to himself, ‘If the Coreys can do it...’” Veronica quipped, grabbing for the athletic tape. “Raise ‘em.”_

_Arms complied._

_“You shouldn’ta said anything.” Buffy grit her teeth, hissing as the tape was wrapped tight around her body. “He’ll...get...killed.”_

_“He did his own legwork...I only confirmed certain facts,” Veronica clarified. “Logan’s always gonna find the next cliff; unfortunately, that’s who he is.”_

_She’d stopped trying to reign him in a long time ago. “Since that’s why you’re still alive to bring the grrl power another day, gotta be honest, part of me’s glad he’s comfy there.”_

_“I am too.”_

________

_That sounded like autopilot._

_“I am, Veronica,” insisted Buffy. “Yeah, wasn’t my best day. Everywhere hurts, it’s my fault vamps are coming here, and, I should’ve been better. I need to be. But, don’t wanna be dead._

_“I don’t ever wanna show my face around Giles or mirrors again, but ‘no’ on the dead-wanting.”_

_“Well that’s reassuring.” Veronica didn’t sound serious, but her eyes were._

_Her next stop was the cuts on Buffy’s forearm._

_“Because I can’t--nay, won’t--lose you.” She coughed, busying herself with bandaging. “And you’re wrong. It isn’t your fault. With Keith Mars as sheriff, there’d be a significant drop in murder-rate, thus making Neptune less attractive to the demonic.”_

_She smiled. “Now that we’ve, um, established what you_ don’t _want, given any consideration to--?“_

_“Whoa.” Dick Casabalancas appeared in the doorway._

_Buffy pressed her blouse against herself. “Uh, get out?”_

_“My bad--thought I ordered that Charlize Theron movie off Pay-Per-View for a sec.”_

_He didn’t think about the things he said, he just said them._

_“You know, the one where her and that chick from Casper get it on, but her face is all messed up and stuff?”_

_“Do you think if we close our eyes, click our heels, and wish hard enough, he’ll shrivel down to a nub?” Veronica asked Buffy rhetorically, crooking her pinky. “I’ll wager it isn’t the first time, but you heard the lady--get out, Dick.”_

_“Yeah, okay, but--“_

_The handiest thing Buffy could grab--a bar of hotel soap--beaned him squarely on the noggin, causing him to meet floor._

_“Whoops. Didn’t mean to throw that hard.”_

_“But see that?” Veronica claimed Buffy’s lips in a “Don’t scare me like this again” kiss. “Who’s lost their touch? Not you.”_

________

Veronica Mars and graveyards? Non-mix-y things, as her girlfriend might say. But it was because of her girlfriend that she was here. Luckily she could track Buffy's cell and didn't have to search many. After all, Buffy mixed quite well in these surroundings. That’s what had Veronica concerned.

They each got lost in their work; they fought about it once. They’d since done a nice job allowing themselves to be found, but it wasn't until last May that Veronica finally understood how much more literal "got lost" was in Buffy's case. She understood what Buffy had struggled to articulate, and her fear.

It’d been an extreme, somewhat atypical situation--relative to the others in Sunnydale--but sometimes it took an extreme. Also known as a psychology professor's homage to/blatant rip-off of Frankenstein's monster. With Faith out of commission, Buffy stepped up to take him down.

Because the "Santa thing" went wrong, she felt she had something to prove.

Through a spell, Buffy accepted the primal core of the Slayer's power, and ceased being who she was. Ceased being human. Veronica saw her right before the spell broke; there was no recognition in her glowing eyes.

Veronica would never get used to the supernatural.

 

________

 

_~Third Week of May, 2007~_

_Veronica stood over her bed, on which rested a cardboard box closed with masking tape. Inside were the last of her things for the move. In the morning, hello Sunnydale. She thought she’d be more upset._

_Many a case got cracked in this room--Lilly’s case. This was where she and Buffy first learned the joys of Sapphic love. But then she remembered other facts._

_Like the plumbing never worked. That they were surrounded by varying degrees of circus freak. That she was getting what she always wanted...to flee Neptune._

_Every day here, she’d had to expose and/or confront the worst aspects of humanity. Just because she enjoyed punishing the guilty didn’t mean it didn’t wear on her. At least in Sunnydale, horned evil outnumbered the evil of the horny._

_If there was a way to make Liam and Vinnie pay, she’d find it. Though honestly, at the moment, she was looking forward to sharing a bed with her girlfriend--the logistics of 1630 Revello Drive necessitated it. Grin plastered on her face, she magic-markered the box as Buffy walked in._

_“Ver...on...ic...a’s...Pixx,” she spoke her writing aloud. “With_ two _X’s. Yes, yes, perfect.” There was a low-key, “mad scientist” tone to her voice._

_“Thank god we didn’t hire moving guys. ‘Cause that’d give them thoughts. Wrong thoughts. Then they’d start doing the whistling thing, or the ‘staring too-long’ thing,” Buffy ranted, wrapping arms around Veronica’s waist, “and then I’d wanna have angry thoughts. Of vengefulness, ‘cause you’re a bad influence.”_

_She considered Veronica’s writing. “Are you sure you_ don’t _want people thinking you’re trampy? This isn’t helping with that.”_

_“I’m a ‘Girl Gone Wild’ now--time to lay these dukes to rest.” Veronica balled her hands into fists, bringing them up, “let fate win.” She then lowered them with an exaggerated sigh. “My only question? Where’re our T-shirts?”_

_Buffy questioned concernedly, “The disc isn’t in...is it?”_

________

_The Castle, under Jake Kane’s orders, had a camera in Buffy’s dorm at Hearst long enough to film she and Veronica au natural, following the most enjoyable of human drives. But more than that, it showed them acting a heck of a lot more intimate than people knew them to be. It wasn’t just sex the student body saw._

_“As if I’d be so doy.” After all that hunting Veronica did?_

_She turned in Buffy’s arms. “My surveillance portfolio’s inside. J. Edgar wants to see who’s got the juice? Booyah--it’s already squeezed. And I always keep my blackmail options open.“_

_The “pleased with herself” glint that should’ve taken residence inside her eyes, wasn’t there._

_“All great...but then where’s the disc? You’re moving. Stuff gets lost in moves,” Buffy pressed. “’Til the Internet finds, and shares forever. Hi, huge problem that’ll never go away.”_

_Next to the box was Veronica’s bag. From it, she pulled out her CD holder. Unzipping, she flipped through, and finally tapped a CD-R over its plastic sleeve. Then she tapped her nose._

_Buffy read the label. “’The Flintstones Meet the Jetsons’?”_

_“Who’d suspect? Crossovers are shunned. Universally. Why? Never work.”_

_“True,” admitted Buffy as they kissed. “Still wish you hadn’t kept a copy.”_

_“How else am I supposed to stay warm on those hot, Virginia nights?” Veronica spoke in a Southern drawl._

________

_Zeroing in on Buffy’s slight pout, she jumped on the opening. “Landry had to lose cred as soon as he rubbed Mindy out. Him vouching for me can’t hold much water anymore. I bet the Feds won’t--“_

_“They will,” Buffy interrupted, looking disapproving. “And if you say you don’t, when I know you wanna intern, it’s not fair. Because then you’re making me choose, and if I say ‘stay’ and you stay, I’ll feel...very je suck. You’ve been dying for this, you’re going.”_

_Veronica broke away so she could put the box on the floor, as well as her bag, then she laid wearily on her bed._

_“Prepare to say hello to Perspective--it’s just shy of the entire summer,” she reminded._

_“We’re flying out for a week in July.” Buffy joined her, lying beside. “I can survive, Marsipan.”_

_That was just it. Veronica wasn’t sure her girlfriend would. It’d been a week and a half since Adam, and after those dreams of cheese and the original Slayer, Buffy admitted that she feared becoming less human._

_It was Veronica’s fear too. How a day would come when no amount of witticisms, affection, or misty memories would do any good. But Buffy had been pretending like the conversation didn’t happen._

_“Oh yeah?” She rolled her head to face Buffy’s. ”How confident? Enough to put your Hungry, Hungry Hippos record on the table?”_

________

_Buffy hesitated too long. “If you weren’t you...this is where lying would be.”_

_Veronica didn’t feel her usual vindication at being right._

_“I’ll get to confident,” Buffy went on. “Once we’re moved, I’m asking Giles to start training me again; I’m gonna find out where my power comes from. Can’t control me if I control it first.”_

_“All great,” Veronica parroted earlier words, “and all the more reason to tell Quantico to go frak itself. I find, I dig, I expose...why not take advantage while she’s in her prime?”_

_Her fingers found blond hair that wasn’t hers, and ran through it. “Could be she’s just workin’ the support system, trying to be a girlfriend.”_

_“No,” objected Buffy, but it was nowhere near stern. “No giving up major, ‘foot-in-door’ opportunities just because ‘Slayer-Buffy’s’ been extra wiggy lately.”_

_“That attitude there? Why I gotta stick around. There’s only one you,” said Veronica, climbing atop her partner in all things. “Discovered recently that my foundations can still get rocked. By what? A truth so ugly and inconvenient, Al Gore would put it to film.”_

_Dramatic silence._

_“The FBI? The Man? Bedfellows,” she revealed, crossing her fingers as her face shone with disbelief._

_“You’re kidding,” Buffy spoke dryly._

_“Wish I were.” Veronica was really committed to this. “But I don’t need his ‘rules’ or his ‘ethics’,” she air-quoted. “I can keep tabs on my fellow American Idiots_ without _a Patriot Act...I’m licensed. Besides, in the long run, we know where I’d rake in the most scratch._

_“Them picking you-know-who gave that tricky bitch, Ego, her longest stroking to date. And in a moment of weakness, my principles got shafted like a cheap...” She tapered, stopping herself for once. “Point being, they’re everything this girl’s against.”_

_She stared Buffy down. “Foot’s in my own damn door. What I want is to help Dad get the new office running, and stand by my woman. So let me.”_

________

_Buffy didn’t want to object. She didn’t want Veronica to go. But she was used to sacrificing her own happiness for someone else’s, and she wouldn’t ask that of Veronica._

_She started saying, “What about bringing it down from the inside, and--?“_

_However, if Veronica was going to be happier here--as the body-shivering kiss that shut her up suggested--okay then._

_“You make it so not worth it to argue,” she said when air._

_“Blessed with a gift,” said Veronica grinningly. “Veronica, 1, Barfy, zer...aw shucks, nobody’s a loser here.”_

_She meant what she said. The FBI was the belly of the beast. After breaking free of its spell, she would’ve felt trapped and disillusioned. Even more importantly, she wasn’t abandoning Buffy for three months. Not now. No way._

_A number of people would be shocked to hear that, but she had her priorities._

_In the search for their amateur pornographer, she weathered the storm like she had many times past, with Buffy’s help. They did that for each other, and couldn’t during a long distance call. There was no choice in high school, but in college, it was hers to make._

_Her life-long friendship (two-year relationship), came first._

_Buffy said the only thing she could. “Does this mean you can’t quit me? Because wow, I can’t quit either. Uh, quit_ you _.”_

_Veronica rolled her eyes. Inappropriate joking like that was her own, humorous fault. She_ was _a bad influence._

_“Not very timely, but apt,” she nodded. “Apt.”_

________

_“Thanks, Veronica. I mean really.”_

_Buffy felt more confident already._

_Maybe even enough to help Faith, who because of the three day, Adam-induced coma, emerged with her own reasons for feeling shaky about the slaying gig. Part of the problem was that Faith gave new meaning to “lone wolf,” and didn’t have someone to force her to break habit. Dawn wasn’t a miracle worker._

_Buffy knew how lucky she was. She whispered--_

_“Know what we hafta do, don’t you?” And a one, and a two... “MOM!”_

_Veronica was rendered speechless._

_Joyce ran in with much fear and concern._

_“What’s wrong? Are you girls o...?” She took in their positions, and turned away, embarrassed. “We asked you to lock the door.”_

_“Is Hungry, Hungry Hippos packed yet?”_

_Veronica turned to look at Joyce, and Joyce looked to her, yet both shared the same befuddlement._

_“Hey, whose happy little accident was she?”_

 

________

 

A girl ran past Veronica then, and if she’d learned anything living in Sunnydale, it was that heading in the direction people seemed to be fleeing from, led to Buffy. Seeing that girl gave her hope; it meant Buffy hadn’t just picked a random fight. It meant the Slayer hadn’t completely won. She started to run.

For months she’d stood by her, and was the balance Buffy needed.  But when Joyce got sick, then got worse, Buffy began to slip away. Bit by bit. So when Joyce’s surgery was a success, aside from her daughters, no one was more grateful than Veronica.

Unfortunately, it was a big, cosmic tease, and she may have lost her best friend forever. Buffy had been unable to kill the tumor which, for all intents and purposes, ultimately killed her mother. And because there were endless things to kill in its place, today could be the day they’d been trying to avoid.

Killing wasn’t slaying. It wouldn’t be heroic; it would be done out of anger. The Slayer probably didn't care why Buffy was suddenly onboard. It just wanted to cut loose.

When Veronica’s boots hit crypt floor, she stopped, surveying the carnage around her. There’d been a nest here. Its inhabitants were strewn everywhere, walls splattered with...she didn’t want to know. She tried to shield her nose from the smell.

In the middle of, amongst the gore, knelt her girlfriend. At first glance, Buffy looked like she had at Logan’s that time, but tonight...none of the blood was hers. She wasn’t hurt at all. Physically.

Veronica cautiously approached, footsteps echoing. Buffy gave no indication she’d heard. Not until Veronica was right behind.

“It didn’t help.”

Then Buffy shattered into exhausted sobs, and Veronica felt something terrible in her gut. Even if they beat Glory, Buffy wasn’t coming back from it. Her response to her gut?

Like fucking hell.

Forgetting their surroundings, she scrambled to hold onto the person she knew, that she loved, before they got anymore lost.


	3. Three

“Fuck you doing?”

At the same time Veronica was walking a shell-shocked Buffy away from a monster mashing, Faith had been embroiled in her own. But as she slurred those words, she was sprawled over fallen trashcans in the alley next to Weevil’s Neptune home. He stood over her, having bailed her very intoxicated ass out yet again.

“Neighborhood watch.” Hand out, he offered to help her to her feet. “Thing I had people around here thinkin’ you’d be good for?”

The ‘09ers covered their neighborhood, leaving he and his alone. Neptune’s classes didn’t even join together when menaced by vampires. It was reassuring in a way that pissed him off.

Faith staked him with the most withering look she could manage and clambered noisily to her feet. She ignored his offer, holding herself up by leaning against the wall. Slaying on tequila and J.D...she was lucky she was alive to be this pathetic.

“I look out for me.”

“That what this is? Me, I’da called it something different.” Weevil shook his head at the drunken mess in front of him.

“S’funny...opening mi casa to a easy-ridin’ white girl who packs away fifths like a camel, isn’t the ‘Fantasy-Come-True’ you’d think.” Beat. “Who’da guessed she was bigger help in a coma?”

Her response was to lunge at him, but he sidestepped and she crashed again. Though not before slamming her shoulder into the opposite wall. “Asshole...shit.”

“Some superhero.”

“Ain’t a hero. Nobody goddamn listens.”

“How ‘bout a person?” he asked, annoyed, looking around at their alley location. “Remind you of anything? Wanna finally get the hell over it, place is perfect.”

If she could’ve kicked his ass right then, she would have.

“You got no idea what--“

“Go ahead, blame the kid. Because she deserves it.”

That was his successful attempt at blatant sarcasm.

 

______

 

“I know she doesn’t, all right?” she told him. “I’m the asshole--that whatcha wanna hear?”

Instead of staying in Sunnydale for Dawn, she fled here to go on a near constant bender and feel sorry for herself.

Weevil squatted down so they were face-to-face.

“She owns up.”

“Tryin’ to earn a merit badge between pimping IDs, Navarro?” she spat back cruelly, doing her best to just sit straight. “Den musta needed a janitor wicked bad. When’d they let ex-cons Scout?”

“Wake up every day knowin’ what I am. Got your breaks though, guarantee you I woulda paid attention to how good I had it. At least enough so I didn’t screw over people who thought I was worth somethin’,” he threw back, her digs rolling off.

He’d accepted who he was a long time ago--problem was, Faith had yet to do the same.

“Only reason I came off the bench? Buffy was outta town. But now she’s back with the Superfriends, and I’m a stringer who shouldn’ta made the cut,” she believed.

“Not when ya get that body all kinds of fisted, goin’ at it with a Terminator,” he agreed, though for a different reason. “But once you’re on the roster, only one way you’re scratched off.”

She held her head and groaned.

“Right there’s the proof. I don’t give a damn if it’s in your blood, girl...even clover-eaters can’t sober this fast.”

 

______

 

“Bet Buffy could too, ‘cept she won’t hit the hard stuff.”

“Thought you two were tight.” She looked at him like he was crazy, and had just lost all credibility. “She lives for the hard stuff.”

“Was talkin’ booze,” he elaborated.

Maybe she hadn’t quite sobered.

“But I’ll do metaphor.” He’d gone to English once or twice. “She might have the experience, but Buffy can be just as thick in the head...and the hard stuff still kicks her ass.

“Difference is, Buffy loses? She learns from it. Picks herself back up, and doesn’t go after things like that one-on-one. That’s your problem, Boston--you’re afraid to get up, and nobody can give ya a hand.”

“Damn. Listen to brown Yoda.” A fire began to light in Faith’s eyes, but she made no move to deny his claim. “Screw you.”

He was getting nowhere. Backed into a corner, his options had whittled. He’d had just about enough of her self-esteem issues.

“Nah. Seconds turn stale, I ain’t interested,” he replied, standing over her again. “Casa’s closed. Leaves two choices...town down the PCH, or...Hector? Couple blocks over? Famous for bragging how hard his stuff is. Low standards, too.

“Personally, I’d rather take a chance in Hell than destroy the legend.”

“Longer stretch in Chino, that wouldn’ta come so easy,” she smirked.

He didn’t.

 

______

 

“They put Joyce under. Last I heard, it’s only a matter of time ‘fore the big, puta de dios makes her move. Be a shame if the kid wasted her six months carryin’ that pedestal around...since she won’t make it to fifteen.”

He turned away and left her there to pass out. Guilt was a low blow, but it was all he had left.

Faith asked his back, “Hell am I supposed to do? Her big sis gets beat...so what? B’s still the hero.”

Here was the second thing Faith owned up to: she’d never be as good as Buffy. She’d pretended a while, because she had Dawn there to treat her like she was, but she wasn’t. Even if they were evenly matched as slayers (and she doubted that), as people, Buffy still edged her out. Buffy’s hands were clean.

All Faith wanted was the blood off. It wasn’t going anywhere.

“That’s not me.”

He hadn’t stopped walking as he called, “Then who the fuck are you, huh?”

 

________

 

An hour later in Sunnydale, on the back porch steps of the Summers’ house, Giles nursed a glass of scotch. He wasn’t a believer in any kind of traditional, rewarding afterlife, or traditional god for that matter, but with his stare directed skyward, he wanted that for Joyce. Because the universe owed her an apology.

“They went to bed,” said Keith as he reappeared, sat down on the steps as well, and accepted his own glass back.

This eased Giles’ mind. When the girls first arrived, Buffy’s eyes seemed so empty. “Hopefully Veronica will get her to rest.”

He remembered his introduction to the other man’s daughter, a couple days before Homecoming. She’d just shown up in the library, much to Buffy’s delight. Her first words:

_{“Is it true? Does Carrie actually go here? Because that’d be awesome. She’s the last autograph I need to finally complete the can.”}_

Leading Buffy to reply that she needed to stop stealing plot points from Tom Hanks movies. Then they kissed, and he cleaned his glasses.

Quite the pair, those two. At least in public, they hid the deepness of their partnership behind humor. But as soon as Veronica took over the responsibility of patching Buffy after patrols (like tonight), Giles knew all he needed to know.

Veronica gave off the illusion of not taking much seriously, until she wanted you to see just how serious she could be. But more than anything else, she got Buffy to smile. Even in the direst of circumstances. He’d be forever thankful for that skill.

 

______

 

“If you don’t mind my saying, you’ve raised a remarkable young woman.”

Keith had an appreciative smile. “Sometimes I think she’s the only thing I’ve done right. But she still worries the hell outta me.”

Then he swallowed half his drink in one gulp, grimacing as it made its way down his throat.

Giles knew the feeling. “Even as proficient as Buffy’s become, I’ll continue to worry.” To which he added, “In my, ah, role as her Watcher, of course.”

Keith didn’t need to be a detective to see past that. “You’ve been the father Hank should’ve been to her, Rupert. And that’s Joyce talking.”

Giles cleared his throat, and responded to the compliment in his reserved manner. “Well, she was...being very kind.” Emotion snuck through anyway.

Each man succumbed to his thoughts for a couple minutes, and Keith? Couldn’t help feeling like a thief.

“Already feels wrong...being here. Calling it home. This isn’t mine.” A sigh shuddered out of him. ”You know, if I’d won the election, Joyce and I were going to buy a bigger place in Neptune. Should’ve counted on it getting complicated.”

Regret layered into his voice. His next swallow was more conservative.

”So when she offered, I thought of Veronica first. I wasn’t putting her through all that again.”

That was a decision he didn’t regret, even if they’d moved to a Hellmouth. Yet he still wanted to ask Joyce’s forgiveness and thank her at the same time.

”But now Joyce is gone, and I don’t know if I can protect her family.”

“You don’t believe she felt the same?” Giles asked rhetorically. “We do the best we can, Keith; you likely understand that better than I. At the very least, it’s within our power to see that Dawn is guided and supported. Though you shouldn’t feel obligated in any--”

“No, agreed,” interrupted Keith. “More than anything, she didn’t want Buffy dropping out over Dawn. She was afraid Buffy would never go back.”

He’d promised their mother before the surgery, though Joyce had been reluctant to ask. But Keith would’ve helped raise Dawn regardless. With another adult in the house, Buffy would have no reason to quit college.

“I survived one teenager...I’ll probably survive another.”

 

______

 

They finished their drinks in silence, and then Giles bade him a sympathetic good night. After a minute, Keith went inside to pour himself another. Except it just sat on the counter. In private, tears quietly fell.

Every time he had someone...

The kitchen phone jarringly rang. He quickly dried his face, as if the person on the other end might somehow be watching.

“Hi,” came an unexpected voice. “Number was in the book.”

Answering a call from his ex-wife was the last thing he’d expected; he couldn’t talk.

So she did. “Adriana called me; if I’d known sooner...I promise, I would’ve been there, Keith. Tell the girls I’m sorry, and that I really do mean it. Please.”

She sighed at his continued quiet. ”Hope she made you happy.”

“I can’t do this. Not now, Lianne,” he finally said.

Hearing him speak, she picked up on a quality she knew intimately.

“Are you drinking?” When he didn’t answer, her next, surprisingly soft question was, “Helps, doesn’t it?”

 

________

 

Next morning, Veronica sat at the kitchen’s island with her laptop. There was a knock at the back door. Then a double tap. Then three and a half more, before it gently opened.

She smiled at the screen, not even turning. “Good to know some things are still held sacred. I’m not sure, but I think your timing’s improved.”

Wallace shut the door behind him and took the empty chair next to her, placing down the breakfast sandwiches he bore.

“She up yet? ‘Cause I brought--”

Veronica clamped her hand over his mouth. “You might wanna check your membrane...before it decides to go insane. Tempt fate like that again, and it will--guaranteed with a stamp.”

When his word hole was freed, he took all that as a no and said quieter, “Yeah, Xander heard the night went bad.”

“Understated noun choice...Willow’s?”

Willow had stayed behind at the house until she and Buffy returned last night. Veronica didn’t need corroboration.

“What keeps her glass half-full, I’ll never know. Almost ready to claim it’s the Judaism; well’s _that_ tapped,” she continued.

“So it was worse than bad,” Wallace said simply.

She wanted to find something large and devastating to compare to, but couldn’t manage gallows humor. Not with this.

“Ever since last night became last night? Been trying to forget about it.”

 

______

 

She remained focused on her screen. “Where is everyone?”

“Xander had to get back to that job he was doin’...at five a.m. How’s the guy do it? Especially after I embarrassed him in front’a his demon like that?”

Oh yes, he was the Scrabble victor.

“But uh, she’s working too,” he answered further. “And Willow, Mac and Tara are takin’ Dawn out for the day.”

Good, that was good. It would make this easier.

“Where’s your dad?” he asked.

“Handling grief in traditional, Mars fashion and drowning himself in cases.” She wondered if that would be enough this time. “Say, before you peel away on that long and winding road to nowhere, separating us alllll those miles...”

She finally turned her head toward him, flashing her most innocent smile. “...wanna do me a favor?”

As always, Wallace felt a chill up his spine, but... “Never thought I’d miss hearin’ you ask that question. Who’s the...?”

She turned her laptop around so he could see the pictures she’d been pouring over, horrifying him instantly.

“Gah!” Wallace wasn’t sure he wanted to know, yet he questioned, “What’d I need to see that for? And why’re you snappin’ shots of it?”

It was a dude. In some kind of locker room. Wearing a dress.

“I guess _you_ haven’t been experimenting in college,” Veronica commented faux-judgmentally, beginning to cycle through her work. “That’s Ben. That’s Sunnydale General, where he supposedly has residency, and that’s his ’98 model Taurus.”

She came to a photo of a swanky, upscale nouveau riche mansion.

“And that’s where he unwinds in his off hours. Fishy? Methinks so. Because what our young, Dr. Frankenfurter/McDreamy _doesn’t_ have?”

“Money. No trust fund, no rich uncles,” her friend guessed.

She felt like a proud parent. “Excellent, Black Stallion. I see I’ve trained you well.”

“Probably spend the rest of my life tryin’ to figure out if that’s a good thing,” Wallace felt the need to reply, “but all right...got me interested. Guy a case?”

 

______

 

“Soon as I laid eyes on’m. Officially, my machete-keen, investigative sense hacked clean through his charming veil of lies,” she explained, puffing herself falsely up. “Unofficially, the bastard’s eyes laid on Buffy every time we were at that hospital, and thought they’d get away with it. So, went troweling for dirt, started a mudslide.”

Her friend grinned, as she had a habit of doing that.

“Just another day for Veronica Mars.” His grin smirked, and then began to smile. “You love her.”

She stared at him as if he was very, very, _very_ slow.

“I take it back...my training’s failed. Hard,” she said.

His smile just stayed in place. Made her uncomfortable. She felt exposed. When she could feel herself blushing, he laughed.

“Jerk,” she name-called. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” He played the innocent.

Her fist showed itself, voice deadly serious. “I’m warning you, Fennel, I hit like a girl.”

“Fine,” he acquiesced, stretching his arms. “This ‘Wallace’? All business.”

“Ooh, that’s my second-favorite ‘Wallace,’’ she beamed, pinching his cheek. “And if I know him like I think I do, he’s wondering where the mudslide is.”

He rubbed his cheek. “Before that he was.”

She just clicked on another picture and blew it up full screen.

His eyes bugged. “Aw damn. What the hell?”

It was a photo taken at night, outside the same mansion. Through what looked to be a penthouse window, you could clearly make out Glory. Then another showed her minions scurrying like rats to the front door. They were all time-stamped, so Wallace could see that the photo of Ben leaving was taken the next morning. He was no hostage.

“To find out, I’m going planting,” Veronica outlined, short and to the point. “But it sure would be nice to have somebody watching the perimeter.”

Not to mention someone at the ready with her girlfriend on speed dial should things go wrong.

“Please be kiddin’.” He kept saying that hoping one of these times she would be. “You know what she is, right? She catches you...”

“She’s gonna drive me crazy?” Veronica realized that.

Life in a straight jacket had an odd appeal. Not enough of one, but it did.

No, she hated this plan. But after last night, she had to give their team some kind of edge. Give Buffy an edge.

Eyes and ears would do the trick. Maybe she’d get lucky, Ben would beat his roomie home, and spill until he couldn’t spill no more. Or maybe she’d get super lucky, and not die.

“Boy, aren’t I glad I’m bringing a failsafe along.”

Her arm went around his shoulders, and she bat her lashes. Waiting for his answer, those breakfast sandwiches just got colder.


	4. Four

Buffy woke to Backup’s tongue lathering her face. Distracted by dog slobber, it meant she didn’t immediately think about how her mother was buried yesterday. That her mother wasn’t here, at the gallery, or stopping by Keith’s office to bring him breakfast. Joyce wasn’t even in the ground. Not really. She was nowhere.

But it was hard to be depressed when drowning. To placate the canine, Buffy sat up and scratched his neck.

“She put you up to this, didn’t she?”

He had been standing, using the bed as support, but question asked, he slid his paws back down to the floor and retreated. Something was on the blanket. It was a photo.

Buffy picked it up. It was a photo...of the stairs? Written on back:

_^_ **Descend these** _^_

Despite not wanting to, she had to crack a smile. From what little she could remember of last night, Veronica took care of her. The absence of “demon” on her body meant that that must’ve included bathing, showering, or some other form of cleansing ritual. And obviously re-dressing.

How was she supposed to slay a god and hold this house together, when she couldn’t upkeep personal hygiene...personally?

She was going to let her mom down. Her sister. Giles.

Buffy forced herself to leave bed, and in the hallway, she stopped at her mother’s bedroom. It smelled like her still, even from here. But it was an illusion she wouldn’t be tricked into believing. She turned away just as the crying would’ve begun.

 

______

 

Another smell drew her downstairs. Food. She didn’t realize how hungry she was. In the kitchen, on the island, were four things. Two lidded plates, a tall glass of juice from an orange, and far right, her own cell phone. The lidded plate on the left had a Post-It stuck to it.

_^_ **Eat me** _^_

Buffy shook her head at Veronica’s mind. It was half-dirty, half-filled with too much of Disney’s interpretation of Lewis Carroll. Assuming things were arranged this way on purpose, she ravenously ate the prepared eggs, bacon and toast breakfast underneath, thanking the universe for sparing her best friend. At least there was still some kind of sense in her life.

It’d been just starting to get better. After Adam, after that unsettling meeting with the First Slayer, she’d committed herself to training to prove the ancient spirit wrong. That she _was_ human, she _had_ a name, a life.

The Slayer was, and would be, under her control, not the reverse. She took strength from Veronica, strength from her mother. Two people who knew and loved her only as “Buffy,” before destiny ever entered the picture. With Joyce gone, Veronica was pulling double duty. Wasn’t fair.

And what her hands did last night, that wasn’t “Buffy.” Because of the giant leap backwards, she was teetering over a proverbial edge. She didn’t know if whatever was next would determine the winner, but it looked that way. That’s why she didn’t want to leave the house.

Some might call that delaying an inevitable.

Following a generous gulp of OJ, she moved onto lidded plate number two. Beneath waited a pack of Morleys with Post-It.

_^_ **Smoke me** _^_

All right, that got a chuckle.  Last stop was the cell.

_^_ **Play me** _^_

Dutifully, she checked her voicemail and listened.

 

______

 

“Mornin’, you,” greeted Veronica’s voice softly. “Hope you liked breakfast, because it’ll be a cold day in Mount Doom before that happens again. Oh, Wallace wants me to tell you how he spared no expense on conveniently-sized, bagel’d versions. They got eaten.”

His voice could be heard in the background, to which she replied, “You say that now, but for the extra energy? ‘Silent but deadly’ is a price I’m willing to pay. Kindly aim downwind, please.”

_‘Why? Energy for what?’_ Buffy thought, the beginnings of dread stirring. _‘Where are you? Is it Dawn?’_

“Stay mellow, hip-chick. Dawn’s having a girl’s day out, and I’m...doing what I do.”

_‘Means trouble.’_

“Fly on the wall. Not like I haven’t run this a million times. Half-an-hour, tops.” Veronica had almost anticipated Buffy’s thoughts, but Buffy could hear the uncertainty.

Setting a camera was normally in-and-out.

“You know the drill. But, Wallace is ‘eyes’n’ears.’ Should something feel hinky...”

Code for, “Be at the ready, but not yet.”

“Meantime, if you’re up to it, Backup’s been _real_ needy lately.”

Backup padded into the kitchen, leash in mouth, and sat.

“What’d you do, rehearse?” Buffy asked him.

Veronica had paused. “Make them, and things get better...they will, Buffy. Believe it. Joyce did--Lianne Mars stopped trying.” Beat. “ _Wherever_ your mom is right now, it’s paying off. Has to, or else I wouldn’t have this steel nerve. Wish me luck.”

_‘Luck wished.’_

“Hang in there, baby. You can.” The message ended with, “Love you.”

Buffy would wait. She didn’t like it, hated it, went against every bone in her body, but because Veronica asked, she would wait. _Buffy_ , not the Slayer. And at some point today, her plan to develop agoraphobia would be shot to hell.

Maybe walking Backup, she’d become as inspired by the memory of her mother as Veronica was. Then through that inspiration, she’d find the courage to grin-and-bear. Or maybe she’d only want her mother alive more, so there’d be new memories to have.

Yeah, sounded about right.

 

________

 

“Really wanna do this?” Wallace asked a final time, sitting in the trusty LeBaron as the Saturn felt inappropriate.

“’Wanna’ is such a strong bastardization of the English language. I’m choosing a reserved ‘hafta,’” Veronica told him truthfully.

“How you gonna go at that?”

They were both staring out the windshield at the mansion.

“Using one of two plays, I reckon--bag?” she requested, and he reached back to grab it off the seat and hand it over.

“’Doctor Evil’s’ car is in the driveway; he knows who I am. He answers the door, I drop Buffy’s name, maybe work a few, coquettish wiles, get myself invited in, then improvise ‘til an opportunity presents itself.

“If a toady answers,” she produced boxes of Girl Scout cookies from her bag, “I’m selling these for my shut-in, homeschooled younger sister, Eunice. Our mother runs the Den in-house,” she said with faux-graveness. “It’s tragic. Not even bootlicks from out-of-dimension can resist.”

Wallace appeared excitedly hopeful. “Tell me you did.”

She grinned. “Dig a little, somebody might just find his name on a box of Do-Si-Dos.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. So easy to please.

“It’s too bad you asked for a trade, ‘cause the way to a dude’s heart? Found it.” He patted his stomach.

“That’s the way?” Veronica asked in startled disbelief. “Interesting. I thought it started someplace else.”

 

______

 

The mic was already strategically placed behind her shirt, which she adjusted to make sure you couldn’t see any outline.

“Verdict?”

“Wouldn’t suspect a thing,” Wallace gave his opinion.

“Audio?”

He touched his lobe, right around where the earpiece was nestled. “Like you’re sittin’ right next to me.”

“Oh Wallace, what a card you are,” she said in amused, tempered sarcasm. “We’ve been friends too long. Or not long enough, because I’ve heard wittier, smart ass comments from, well, me.”

“That’s why it’d be cool if you stuck around a while. You know, until I meet those high standards,” he responded, trying to express concern without expressing it. “Plan on me takin’ my time, too; hafta get it just right.”

“Practice, practice, practice,” she said with a smile.

She tried to reassure him through emotive, chatty eye contact. Her specialty. But he deserved more.

“All right...let’s hug it out, bitch.”

He chuckled, but they did indeed. “Watch your back.”

“Always do. Can’t not.” Veronica opened her car door, and strapped the bag over her shoulder. “Too much practice.”

She stepped out.

“Hold up, what’s the code?” Wallace couldn’t believe they’d forgotten. “If things...?”

“Probably a word, or word combo, off George Carlin’s list. So keep that ear sharp.”

 

________

 

Occasionally, low tech investigating proved useful. Doorbell rung, Veronica crouched and hurried to a curtained window to see what she could see. They were partly see-through, and she could make out scrambling minions and what looked like Ben coming down a staircase, yelling at them to stay out of sight.

She went back to the doors before he opened them. When he did, he was shirtless, but trying to put one on.

_‘Four and a half-pack abs? There’s the clincher--he’s definitely an evildoer.’_

“Hi, Ben! Kathy at the nurses station told me where you lived...hope that’s cool.”

He didn’t want her there, she could tell.

“Hey. It’s uh, ‘Veronica,’ right? How’s...Buffy holding up? With her mom and everything.”

“I’m here and she isn’t--take a stab,” Veronica answered, pushing past him and inviting herself in.

If this was going to work, “pushy” would have to be her tactic.

“ _Whoa_. I can’t believe you can like, afford to live here. Sorry, I just _had_ to see for myself. This is amazing.”

“It’s not mine; it’s my sister’s place,” he said.

_‘Sister?’_

“No way.” She whistled an impressed whistle, taking in the space while heading towards the stairs. “She must be beaucoup important somewhere.”

He followed, attempting to get ahead of her. “She likes to think she is.”

_‘Ah-ha. Sibling rivalry extends across dimensions. Has to be the only family where doctor doesn’t impress. Does brother resent sister? Hate how she makes her living? Is he biding his time, waiting to commit sororicide and ascend to power?_

_‘I smell sitcom.’_

 

______

 

“Did you want something?” Ben was nervous.

“Just to thank you. On Buffy’s behalf. For taking care of her mom, watching out for Dawn that night...she really appreciates it.”

Veronica stopped at the stairs and reached into her bag.

“As a small token of that appreciation, emphasis on small...” She held up the token for him to see. “‘Buddy Christ.’

“It’s not that we’re cheap. You just struck us as a Silent Bob fan. Besides, after the medical bills, and the funeral...”

The “Buddy Christ” figurine depicted a grinning, winking, finger-gun-toting Jesus for a new generation. It was from the movie “Dogma.” Thinking about it residing in Glory’s home created a brand-new level of funny.

“Tell her I said thanks,” Ben replied. “But I have to get ready for my shift. You should really--“

She took off upstairs. “Hey, you know, I bet I could find the _perfect_ spot for him in your room. I’m minoring in feng shui; my professor says I’m a natural. Which one’s yours?”

Speed-walking down a hall she went, reached an elevator, and turned down another hall. Then ahead, she heard a door click shut.

She followed the sound around a less distant corner-- _‘Freaking mansions...I hate the rich’_ \--and on opposite sides of this new hall were two doors. One closest to her on the right, one a couple feet down on the left.

Deducing that the closest door belonged to Glory (or blindly guessing), she turned the knob and entered. Aside from the odd, Asian-inspired painting on a section of wall, and how spacious, the room was disappointingly normal. At least she deduced right, though. The other door must have been minions’ quarters.

She surveyed a little more. There was a plush red couch and chairs, a glass table, some lamps, bedroom on the far end, an unused fireplace with a mirror above its mantle.

_‘Eureka.’_

________

 

“Buddy Christ” found himself on that mantle with an excellent view beside a thin vase, as Ben came into the room.

“Who’s your decorator?” she asked him.

“You hafta go. This is my sister’s room. She doesn’t like it when people are in here.” He grabbed her forearm, panicked even more than downstairs. “I told Dawn.”

_‘Watch the mitts, pal.’_

Her hand went to Taser. “Told Dawn what?”

“How she always kn...no.” He let her go, backing away. “No, no, no, no...”

“...no.” Glory picked up where Ben left off, standing where he’d been. She seemed to be getting her bearings. “Don’t I know you?”

Veronica now had the panicked look. _‘What the...?’_

Hell god, and her with a Taser. Only one thing to say.

 

________

 

She kissed her pops with that mouth?

“Help’s comin’, V. Even if I gotta come in there myself,” promised Wallace, even though he knew she couldn’t hear him.

He dialed Buffy’s cell again. It just rang.

“ _Pick up_ , Buffy. What’re you doin’? There’s no time.”

“Figured that might be an issue,” Buffy said in person, jogging over with Backup from the park.

It was wrong that someone so evil lived a property line away from a place so not.

“Kinda why we’ve been following your signal,” she went on, pocketing the tracer.

Then she choked up on the staff she’d been using as a walking stick to avoid stares, and joined him by the car. His eyebrows were up.

“What? Veronica wanted me to wait for a call, I waited. But she didn’t say head starts were a no.”

“You know how...?” he trailed off.

“Number two relationship rule: get interested in your partner’s hobbies, or at least get great at pretending,” Buffy enlightened him, taking in the mansion. “‘Pretending’ was never a thing I did much.”

“What’s number one?” he asked, and then with a grin, worked it out on his own. “Never mind, think I know.”

“Who lives there?” Easy as that, she was all business.

“Uh, that’s Glory’s...hideout,” Wallace answered.

It wasn’t doing a great job living up to the “hide.”

“Veronica was talking with that guy, Ben, then all the sudden, I heard Glory inside. Swear I didn’t see her go in.”

 

______

 

Of course it was the hell god’s hideout, and of course Veronica wouldn’t want her to know until absolutely necessary. Because Buffy would’ve hogtied her inside one of those puppy carriers for airplanes. And she was too busy thinking about how she was either going to yell at Veronica, or kiss her face off, to wonder what Ben had to do with any of this.

Veronica wouldn’t die. Through sheer force of will, Veronica would keep alive, and then through sheer force, Buffy would guarantee she stayed that way. Her mind was clear.

Unmotivated and lethargic? For now she wasn’t, and the Slayer would be nothing more than a tool used to mount a rescue. Veronica couldn’t die.

No. Just no. She refused to contemplate losing them both.

“Get the car running, okay?”

 

______

 

He didn’t want to just wait. “She’s my best friend. I’m goin’.”

“I know, Wallace. Feeling’s sorta familiar,” Buffy smiled at him. “And you’re hers--would she want you in there?”

A subtle twitch in his expression gave her the answer. “Exactly. So if I cave and let you, know what that means? I’m never getting ‘Rule One’ again; I _really_ like that rule.”

She unleashed Backup.

“Better bring her out, then,” Wallace told her.

Arguing would’ve wasted time.

“That’s ‘Option Only.’” Fire burned behind Buffy’s words.

It was a fire he recognized, because Veronica had it too. You didn’t mess with fire. Not one that sparked so quickly.

He said, “It’s hard being a sidekick to a couple of wonder women sometimes.”

“If that was a ‘height’ joke, I’m telling,” she swore.

Because weren’t Amazons vertically blessed?

Buffy whistled and Backup ran with her towards the mansion. “You and Xander should compare notes!”

“Oh, we already do!” Wallace called after her. “Count on that.”

They did. Over Tuesday meets on XBOX Live. Along with Piz, who’d transferred east. Surrounded constantly as they were by girl power, they took “guy time” wherever they could get it.

Didn’t matter that he and Veronica lived in separate towns these days. She was always calling, emailing him...once you were part of her life, there was no getting out unless...

...unless the unthinkable happened in the next few minutes.

 

________

 

_‘That worked?’_ Veronica stared at her Taser in awe. _‘_ How _did that work? Oh, that’s right--who gives a frak? I just discovered somebody’s Kryptonite. So here’s the deal, Gift Horse--you did me a solid, I won’t look you in the mouth.’_

It was logical to question the logic, though. Because not only did she incapacitate Glory, she apparently made her vanish. She’d shocked a god, but gazing down, Ben was the one out cold...who’d previously vanished upon Glory’s arrival. What the hell bitch was going on here?

Later; she’d sleuth later. Hooray for expensive, pinhole cameras that her father could never know she borrowed.

“No lesser being has ever dared harm the mighty Glorificus!” a voice shouted angrily from behind.

“It’s been said I’m not your average, lesser being,” she spoke, slowly, carefully turning to face the voice.

_‘One, two, three, four, five...five toadies with leprosy. Mwa-ah-ah.’_

“I heard about these clinics, in Hawaii? For...” Her fingers wiggled in front of her face. “Should Google it. You’ll be glad you did.” She pumped her fist. “Go after that cure. I’ll let myself out.”

They decided to advance on her, she decided to backpedal.

_‘Nice hole you’ve dug yourself, Veronica. What now? Dig up?’_

 

______

 

With her future looking less bright every second, the snarl was music to her ears. Her would-be attackers’ attentions shifted off her and onto Backup, moments before he leapt and knocked the middle one over. Mouth firmly latched to jugular, Backup was ready to bite down if commanded.

How quickly they cowered.

She loved her dog. “I knew we should’ve named you ‘Dynomutt’.”

She loved her special lady friend too. Buffy was here.

“Slayer!” Another minion declared in fear, for which he was immediately juiced.

“Anybody else wanna get the name wrong?” Sensing the tide had turned, Veronica felt safe to threaten, and made sure they saw the pretty sparks.

Then she leisurely walked to her girlfriend’s side.

“Hurt?” Buffy asked while still giving the “Bring It On” stare to the demons.

“Nah,” Veronica shook her head with a smile, as if it were nothing, “just trying to see past the blinding glint coming off your armor.”

Buffy’s lips quirked, cracking her “badass” façade. “Say we’re going.”

Veronica eyed Buddy on the mantle. “Yeah. We are.” She looked at her dog, who could’ve stayed there forever. “Backup, chill.”

They were all on their way.

“The why...scale how good.” Buffy wasted no time being direct.

Neither did Veronica. “A ‘Spinal Tap’ eleven.”

“’Kay then.”

Veronica detected something in Buffy’s hand as they moved fast toward downstairs. Pieces of something. “Your favorite staff...it’s in half.”

And were those groans below? Groans of agony?

“You’ll see,” promised her partner grinningly, before remembering who she hadn’t seen. “Um, where’s Glory?”

 

________

 

“We must rouse him! Quickly! Quickly!” Murk urged his fellow doormats as two others hurriedly brought a bowl of water into the room. “Her Most Shiny Splendid-ness will be quite displeased with us.”

That realization froze them all a moment. Whenever Glory was displeased, one or more of them ended up dead, or worse.

Gronx was holding a side of the bowl. “Perhaps we should...let her rest.”

“She _is_ terribly overworked. The stress cannot be good for her wonderfully flawless and well-moisturized skin,” Jinx agreed readily, holding the other. “And with the alignment so close at hand--“

“No,” Murk reluctantly decided, “no, we must.”

They sighed as a group, and splash went the water onto Ben’s unconscious face. Instantly, he sputtered to life, coughing. And before you could say “false idol,” Glory surfaced. Her hair had gotten wet. They tried to lift the bowl in time, but--

\--her fist was all the way through Jinx’s chest before the bowl smashed to the floor. Her arm retracted with a vicious “schluoosh,” and the body fell like a ragdoll.

“Okay,” she addressed them, and it was clear Veronica’s stunt tried her last, sane nerve, “best guess. And make it snappy.”


	5. Five

“They promised not to be home ‘til Dawn crashes,” said Buffy from bed later that night, after hanging up with Willow. “What’re you looking for?”

The room was dark besides the glow of the television and Veronica’s laptop, which Veronica sat in front of. You couldn’t tear her away from the hidden camera’s feed since they’d returned from Glory’s. Other than wishing Wallace happy trails and barely stopping to eat, Veronica had been glued.

“I’ll know it when I...zoinks,” Veronica breathed out.

She switched off the feed, and rewound.

“And ‘Smurf’ me.”

Seeing the video, it all made sense. So _that’s_ what happened to Ben. The freakiest thing? This kind of stuff wasn’t as freaky to her anymore.

“No cartoon mashing--we talked about this,” Buffy frowned while watching the TV, semi-distracted herself.

Veronica stole the remote and turned off the millionth “Seinfeld” episode showing that day. “No Jerry for you,” she declared in her best, subdued “Soup Nazi” accent.

She decided to start obsessing tomorrow and close her laptop. She didn’t want to speak too soon.

“Did you find?” Buffy asked when her girlfriend settled under the covers. “Was it worth the almost getting killed?”

“Work in progress. But I could make a pretty haypenny going on the Internet and telling Glory to fug herself.”

“You know what’s quirky?” Veronica continued rhetorically. “An Eighties action hero, and a mass-murdering, monologue-ing, psychotic junior almost did me in...”

“That’s quirky?” Buffy asked dubiously, not considering Aaron Echolls’ and Cassidy Casabalancas’ murderous attempts as such.

Sleeping alone...how’d she ever? She couldn’t picture going back. Adjusting herself, Buffy could be accused of snuggling.

“...but a g dash d from H-e-double hockey sticks up and amscrays,” Veronica was careful to not give away what she’d semi-learned, “over a half-sec spike in voltage. Tazers--is there anything they can’t do?”

“It’s bad math.” But Buffy couldn’t think about that.

All she’d thought about was Glory, and her mother, and she needed to not. Coming to Veronica’s aid today gave her mind a break; she wasn’t ready to punch back in.

“Hidden Temple,” she said when her channel surfing landed on Nickelodeon GAS.

 

______

 

Veronica recognized the physical and educational game show from their pre-preteen years, with the giant, talking, Aztec stone head. “I’d let Olmec spin me a legend any day. Woof.”

Team “Blue Barracudas” was trying to beat the clock and navigate the temple obstacle course. A kid got nabbed by a temple guard in the throne room. That was his partner’s cue to take off after Napoleon’s Hat.

“There’s always a guard in the throne room. And isn’t a barracuda fish-like? Shouldn’t they be someplace more watery?” It never made sense to Buffy. Even at the age of seven.

“It’s also a song by Heart, and the Seventies muscle car favored by Liam Fitzpatrick,” supplied Veronica with the quickest of scowls. “But unless ‘Finding Nemo’ has me grossly misinformed, their gilled namesake is a home-wrecking, egg-eating jackass.”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “I’m okay with them liking land, now. Land’s where flopping happens.”

“A pox on all their dorsals,” Veronica agreed. “Bet you a sawbuck those kids kept chasing this high ever since the show ended. Straight to rehab.”

“Or they’re just _really_ lazy.” Buffy was exhausted simply watching them, and she had enhanced stamina. “Did you ever think it was weird how they wanted us to stay home and watch kids _not_ us exercise?”

“Am now,” Veronica contemplated. “As long as we’re on the subject of Nickelodeon, or ‘Nick’, if you wanna be cool about it...Alex Mack and the power to puddle? One suck with a wet-dry vac; all I’m sayin’.”

“What if she...during her first time, just...went _splished_?”

“She’d save a bundle on Astroglide.”

They started giggling madly, Veronica into the room, Buffy into Veronica’s neck.

 

______

 

“These thoughts of ours might-could run too deep,” said Veronica when under control.

“Like knowing that mine still can,” Buffy spoke into her ear. “That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

“Became a goal of the plan,” Veronica fessed, feeling Buffy’s mouth fluttering back around her neck a second later. “You weren’t gonna get forewarning originally. I was just gonna take Wallace. But then I saw the possibilities--you’re outta the house doing a little combat exercise, we spend some Super Happy Fun Time...and mayhaps I’d see you for a while.

“So yeah, thought this one through. You’re probably surprised, because I know how much you love my impulsiveness...” Her breathing was no longer calm and even. Buffy hadn’t stopped. “I should...audible more often.”

They trusted each other. Veronica trusted Buffy to hear the message but still give her time. Buffy trusted in Veronica’s ability to handle herself, but then swallow her pride and get word to Wallace. It went against every instinct, except, wasn’t that the point? It was encouraging that regardless of recent events, their relationship was this healthy.

Buffy rolled and raised herself over Veronica. “I’ll be ‘Angel Broody’ again tomorrow, yunno.” She hated spoiling the mood, but she didn’t want to shock Veronica come morning. “I feel so old.”

“It’s not the years, honey, it’s the mileage,” Veronica smiled understandingly. “I’m no hypocrite--you’re entitled. Brooding has to peter out naturally; I won’t take it personal.”

She tapped the nose above her. “But I will be here when you need a timeout. Can’t let ya drown again.”

Buffy supported herself on one hand so she could brush some hair away from her girlfriend’s face, and dipped down for a kiss. “Next timeout, can we skip to Super Happy Fun Time?”

“I could be swayed,” grinned Veronica agreeably, then snapped her fingers. “ASAP. Double Dare’s coming on.”

“It is?” Buffy’s attention was immediately divided.

“I was kidding.”

“Bu...slime.”

Veronica hoped the stakeout ahead, however long, continued to produce results so nights like these weren’t few.

 

________

 

“Even if I was that mean, the video on my phone would be too low res for Tom Bergeron anyway,” Mac said when they all exited the mall, Dawn near passed out against Tara--and a step from falling hilariously. “I’ll pull my car up.”

Mac cleared her throat, and pulled an unsuspecting Willow along with her.

“I’ll, uh, come too. Totally want to. ‘Cause I’m a free willin’ Willow.” Willow held tight to the bag, and they went off to brave the parking lot.

Tara was the only one who didn’t have a bag filled with things for Dawn. She’d gone through her mother’s death at seventeen. She knew that all the clothes and food and milkshakes in the world wouldn’t fill the hole. But Mac and Willow were trying their best. When Dawn had been more awake, Tara saw that the girl appreciated it.

“You should,” Dawn yawned, eyes closed, “take her to the Renaissance Fair in a couple weeks.”

Tara feigned ignorance. “Take who, Dawnie?”

“Willow. You guys’d be so cute together.” The strength of Dawn’s belief was lost in tired delivery. “A lot more than Buffy and Veronica. Mom even said.”

Tara didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She did a little of both. Joyce was always kind to her; it was like having a mother again, then losing her all over again.

“Seeing you two hap...” Dawn said during another yawn, “...py...woulda made her happy. And me.”

_‘And me,’_ thought Tara, fingers softly brushing Dawn’s hair.

 

________

 

“I thought we, you know, already decided.”

As they loaded bags into the trunk following their journey deep into the lot, Willow did a bad impression of someone trying to be secretive.

“About...you know.”

“Huh?” Mac closed the trunk, and caught on. “We did. And as soon as somebody stops them from rebooting ‘Apocalypse Now’ in Sunnydale, we throw the kill-switch.”

At her door, she conked her forehead against it. “Crap. I just joked about how the world’s gonna end.”

Willow grinned at her from across the car. “You’re officially a Scooby!”

“Thanks?”

Parker hadn’t thought highly of the honor. Though maybe being Logan’s personal Scooby wasn’t the same thing. The two had dated before he began going after vampires. So far, his suicidal attempts weren’t getting the job done, but Parker couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t handle him. She escaped Neptune for her parents’ bubble in Denver.

Speaking of fleeing friends, after Piz got that Pitchfork Media internship in New York, he was so wooed that he transferred schools. Well before Neptune’s vampire situation got too intense, yet something told Mac he wouldn’t have handled it any better than Parker.

What did it say about Mac that she could?

That she was weird. Wasn’t news.

 

______

 

“Then how come you made me walk?” Willow opened her door and got in.

Mac did the same. “Oh, uh, no reason. Just, ask her out or everybody’s kicking your ass.”

She smiled encouragingly as the seatbelt slipped out of Willow’s grasp and snapped back into place.

“I can’t. With-with Joyce, and Glory, and...now is all askew.” Eyes wide, Willow flushed. “I mean, uh...ask who out?”

Mac rolled her eyes, starting up the engine while her friend tried the seatbelt again.

Willow tried to compromise. “I-I know who. I’ll think really hard too. About asking. Trying to ask. Just not...” She took a big breath. “When apocalypse now is a then apocalypse, ‘kay?”

“Willow, we could all literally be ‘Planet X’d.’ I thought I was still too young to say this, but, life’s too short,” responded Mac, after which Willow would use “The Project’s” long-delay as a retort.

“The Project” was what they’d been talking about earlier; the thing Willow thought they’d decided on. And yes, it was the same project none of their friends still knew anything about, and doubted would ever come to fruition. But oh, it was.

Mac anticipated said retort. “There needs to be a point to blackmail. And uh, people around to do it to. Once the switch is thrown, it’s thrown. You can if you want, but I’m out. Why waste my time when the Earth might still blow up?”

“No more people, no more pointy,” agreed Willow. “Wa-wait, how’s asking Tara--?”

“Hey, it’s your call. Go ahead. Spend your last moments _knowing_ you like each other, but never--”

“You knew Bronson liked you but didn’t ask right away.” Willow finally got in a valid, “Ha!”

“Yeah, ‘cause I was afraid if he found out about my last date,” Mac explained, “he’d warn every other guy within a twenty-mile radius of wherever I’m standing. At all times.”

“But she might--”

“Dude, blind helper monkeys can see Tara isn’t your rebound.”

Mac was about to pull out of the parking space when Willow sighed, “What if I stink at being gay?”  


________

 

“This is nice. Just hanging out. Just us girls.” Back in front of the mall, Glory somehow stood at Tara’s other side, holding her hand. “Any good sales?”

Tara’s eyes widened in fear not for herself, but for the girl barely stirring. The god didn’t know it, but her goal, the Key, was right here. What Glory lacked in smarts, however, she made up for by being terrifying.

“You like this sort of thing, don't you?” Glory asked conversationally, before breaking every bone in Tara’s hand with one squeeze. “Don't make a sound. You’ll wake up Baby Bear.”

Tara swallowed back her pain. A couple, a group of teenagers on cell phones, cops...nobody paid them any mind. She might as well have been all alone.

Glory saw her looking. “I'd kill them. You know that. Well, maybe I’d just kill her.”

With another squeeze, Tara’s mouth opened in a silent scream as her blood seeped between their interlocked fingers. It dripped onto the ground.

“I like the detail work those monks did,” complimented Glory. “Quirks, foibles, passions. It's all so cute, so human, ya know? Pretty convincing really. But not convincing enough.”

She brought the bleeding hand to her lips, and took a savoring lick of crimson. Then she spit it out, none-too-happy about what she just tasted. Or didn’t.

“You lying little tramp! You're not the Key. You're nothing. Just another worthless human being!”

The rise in Glory’s volume forced Dawn and Dawn’s adrenaline, awake. “No, stop!”

“Aw, were we being too loud?” Glory actually sounded apologetic. “Blame the witch. She lied to me, Dawnie! Do you know how much I _hate_ that?”

“She didn’t!” Dawn insisted, tears spilling over Tara’s pain.

It was her fault.

“Didn’t mommy teach you to shut up when the adults are talking?” Glory turned back to the person she’d come here for. “I liked our private time; we were becoming so close. Really. But guess what happens if we don’t get it back.”

“D-d-d-d-dawn, go. Run to the car,” Tara tried to urge, Glory’s grip becoming impossibly tighter. “AH! Hurry!”

“No.” Dawn adamantly stood her ground. “I’m not leaving you. Willow’ll be right back, and--“

“And I’ll swat her aside like a two-year-old. Then if she’s lucky, she’ll die,” Glory threatened with a jarring smile.

 

______

 

“Hey, wait! Stay. Hang out. We can play ‘Glory Says.’” She stomped down on Tara’s foot. Tara fell to her knees. “Glory says...be a big girl and tell me who the Key is, or I suck her dry.”

“She doesn’t...know...” Tara managed to get out.

Glory, now with leverage, twisted her arm. “Did I say you could play?” She sighed, shaking her head. “Rude!”

She watched Dawn’s face watch Tara, trying to comprehend the choice before her. “C’mon, kid. Trebek gives you less time than this. I’m being pretty damn generous here.”

Ever since Tara fell, people started paying attention. Enough to flee. Glory ignored them.

“It won’t kill her. She’ll feel like she’s in a noisy, little, dark room. Naked, and ashamed.

“And there are things in the dark that need to hurt her 'cause she’s bad. Little pinching things that go in your ears and crawl on the inside of your skull. And she’ll know that if the noise and the crawling would stop, she could remember how to get out. But she never, ever will,” she spoke quietly, unhappily, from firsthand experience.

She let Dawn imagine for a moment, and then with deadly seriousness asked, “Who’s the Key?”

“I am.” In that moment, Dawn grew up.

God and Key stared at one another. Dawn’s sacrifice? Didn’t mean a thing.

“I bet you think it’s funny, don’t you? Toying with my emotions like this? _That’s_ ,” Glory skeptically scanned the undeveloped, uncoordinated, disgustingly hormonal teenage body, “the best they could do? It’s frickin’ holy!” Her eyes were dark. “Remember lying? Hate it! Mommy didn’t teach you jack.”

“It’s true!”

Glory held her free hand to her forehead. “Game’s over. Let’s get crazy.”

 

________

 

The damage had already been done when the Beetle drove up to the curb. At first, its passengers didn’t realize what was going on. All those people who’d fled now gathered. Mac and Willow pushed through them to see Dawn hugging Tara tightly, sobbing.

“Why?” Mac said it so quiet, she could barely hear herself.

Every time she wanted to believe it wasn’t real, she got proof otherwise. She didn’t need more. Seeing Tara, she saw herself naked on that hotel room floor three years ago, and like then, this didn’t make any sense either. It just hurt.

Tearing her eyes away, she turned them on Willow, who’d taken just enough steps to go comfort Dawn. Her friend was a lot stronger, braver, than she acted most of the time. How Willow wasn’t a mess, Mac didn’t know.

What was a worse jinx than “life’s short?” Mac called 911.

 

________

 

Her next call had been to the Summers’ home, and that night? “Just the beginning” was an overused phrase, but fitting.

Veronica wished she could’ve had the feed up in time to hear Glory name Tara as her target. Like Mac, she was feeling plenty of irrational guilt. The stakeout didn’t even have a chance to pay off any further.

Things spiraled. Nothing was better. Everything was worse.

At the spiral’s bottom presently, outside Sunnydale General, she took a wild guess and told her phone:

“It’s Dawn. So get back here, McGee.”

After that, she went to hear Giles’ prognosis, and remain in the dark about Buffy’s. Her girlfriend had taken brooding to dangerous new heights.

Glory may have left the mall sated and without a fight, but in the morning, she was at Buffy’s front door. Offered to sap all her friends’ brains until she discovered who the Key was, or Buffy could just tell her. Last chance.

Good news--that didn’t happen. Bad news--it didn’t happen because Tara saw what Dawn was. Thanks to her broken state, out came the truth.

The group escaped only as far as an abandoned gas station, miles outside Sunnydale. Because they invited Ben, it all went pear-shaped. Veronica tried to explain why bringing him to a medieval siege was a mistake. With a capital M. But Giles had needed a doctor, and if he lived, it’d be due to Ben.

Besides, everyone forgot her words before she even finished. Stupid spell. If she’d let Buffy see the video...but she’d been so worried about what Buffy would’ve...no, this wasn’t helping.

Reflecting on the tale told by the now-dead, siege-leading general who’d attacked the gas station, her worry quadrupled. Just because the Knights of Byzantium had been single-minded, religious fanatics didn’t mean their intel on Glory sucked.

Veronica had to do something.

 

________

 

“...here, McGee.”

Weevil’s houseguest had already cleared out by the time he heard the message. Least she was sober, and had shaken off some rust. His ultimatum must have worked, because she’d spent most of the day training in that same alley.

Whether she was ready or not, it was “sink or swim” time.


	6. Six

Faith regretted this. Regretted that it’d taken her this long. How long _had_ it been? From the looks on Xander and Willow’s faces, too long. Maybe she should’ve called first.

“It’s a big day!”

Every break in Tara’s crazy-talk made their anger worse. Tara sat in a chair in the living room, head jerking nervously when she wasn’t pulling and stretching the sleeves of the oversized sweatshirt she wore. Glory needed to die.

Willow stood behind the chair, wanting to comfort, sadly unsure if it was her place. “You just left! We needed your help! _Buffy_ needed it! Now she’s...”

Faith took her lashes. “I know I screwed you guys. I was messed up.”

_{“Then who the fuck are you, huh?”}_

Weevil’s question gnawed at her ever since she’d dried out. It still did, because she hadn’t found the answer yet. She knew it wasn’t in Neptune.

“So you’re all better?” Xander asked, sarcastic, standing by the sliding door that opened into the foyer with his girlfriend. “Hey, she’s all better now, Will! Bet Giles’ll be glad to hear that, y’know, soon as the doctors let him out. Those rascally torsos.”

He clapped his hands. “Somebody should tell Dawn...wait, she’s been kidnapped. Damn.”

Thinking of Dawn in Glory’s hands got Faith’s ire up.

“Are you sayin’ ‘cause I wasn’t there--?”

“Probably still woulda happened,” he acknowledged. “But when there’s a hell bitca after your friends and you’re skipped outta town...”

“We care about you, Faith,” said Willow, giving her no chance to respond. She stepped away from the chair. “We wanted to help with whatever bad stuff, but you never let us. You just left,” she repeated. “It hurt.”

Faith looked down at her feet.

“You whooshing back’s--“

“--good for Dawn,” Keith interjected from the couch, being the authority figure. “Let’s focus on keeping her alive.”

 

______

 

_‘I’m so sorry, Joyce.’_

Keith had been out of town himself, on one of the cases he’d drowned himself in. He came home to exactly what Faith had, so he empathized. He’d missed the knights on horseback and the gas station and Giles getting speared. His daughter had been in the middle of all that, and he hadn’t known.

Not that it would’ve made a difference if he had. The man was entirely out of his depth.

“Baldy’s right,” agreed Anya. “Buffy’s acting like one of those wax dolls they turn funny racists and alcoholic army doctors into.”

“...from TV. Funny racists and alcoholic army doctors from _TV_.” At least, Xander hoped that’s what she meant. “Gonna guess Archie and Hawkeye.”

She’d learned to just keep going when he subtitled her. “And Tara’s...“ Her eyes moved to where the girl should’ve been. “Where’d she go?”

The chair was empty.

“Tara? Tara!” Willow called, frantic.

They all searched downstairs, joining Willow in calling her name. In the kitchen, they saw the back door wide open. Willow whipped around to stare accusingly at Faith.

“I closed it, Red.”

In between receiving a silent apology and stomping, pissed off, back into the living room, Faith arrived at the closest thing to a plan she could think of.

“I’m sorry,” she announced once everyone had followed, adding in her head, _‘Sorry I’m not Buffy,’_ “but here’s what’s gonna go down.”

Time to find that answer.

 

________

 

While they were arguing, Veronica walked back into the bedroom, bag strapped about her shoulder. She made sure the door was shut. Leaning back against it, eyes closed, she allowed herself a breath. From eavesdropping in the hallway, she knew she had a window now.

She was either prepared to do this or she wasn’t. One, two, three...

...and her lids opened on a catatonic Buffy, sitting back against the headboard, staring blankly. She’d put her there with Willow’s help. Unable to protect her sister at the gas station, Buffy shut down. Nobody could get through to her.

Okay. Just check on the camera--

“Yeah?” Veronica answered her cell on autopilot as she checked the laptop’s video feed.

Glory’s room was dark. They’d cleared out.

#It’s me. What’s going on?# Mac asked anxiously.

“Don’t expect it to hold up in court but, comic book-esque twists and turns,” replied Veronica.

#Uh, okay. Why wouldn’t it?#

“Has no legs to stand on. My grasp of the funny pages comes completely secondhand. From the ‘Jeff Albertsons’ of the world,” Veronica enlightened with her admittedly diehard “Simpsons” reference, checking the tracker next. “Trust me, you got out while the gettin’ was wise.”

Nope, Taurus hadn’t moved. She shut down her computer and closed the screen.

 

______

 

On the other end of the phone, Mac wished she was glad she’d left. At the hospital, while the doctors were with Tara, Willow told her to go back to Neptune. It’d be safer. Now home, she didn’t know about that.

#I feel like I should, sort of, be there. Shouldn’t I?#

“If you were, who’d Willow get all her notes from? She’s counting on those neon highlights,” Veronica said. “Listen, Mac, there’s somewhere I have to be.”

#Be careful, Veronica.#

“You too. And if Wallace asks, tell him it’s in the bag. His ‘fro wilts when he’s worried.”

 

______

 

Cell phone off--didn’t want ringing at an inopportune moment--Veronica peered out the window. Willow and Faith were on the move, tailing something resembling a green firefly. If Veronica had to bet, it led to Tara. And Tara would lead to Glory, which Faith had to be banking on.

For everyone else, where Glory was, so was Dawn. Veronica’s focus was somewhat wider.

She stepped to the bed.

“Won’t lose you...that’s a promise.” She placed a tender kiss on her girlfriend’s forehead. “See ya soon. She hopes.”

Veronica exited out the window, then to the tree, then the ground. Something Buffy had done countless times. Handy.

Now it was about tailing Faith and Willow without magickal guidance, and waiting.

 

________

 

Elsewhere, Buffy kept looping through the same memories, the same nightmare, trapped inside her head. One had her putting this book on a shelf at the Magic Box, and thinking Glory would win. That it would be easier if Dawn were dead; it was selfish, horrible. Certainly un-heroic.

Another was of the day her parents brought Dawn home from the hospital, and how protective she’d felt even then. Could the two memories conflict more? They were making her nuts, while the nightmare...she acted that out herself.

She was in Dawn’s room, smothering Dawn with a pillow until her sister stopped flailing. Stopped breathing. Except when she removed the pillow for the fiftieth time, it wasn’t her sister’s, lifeless body lying on the mattress. Nor was the body quite lifeless.

Its eyes opened.

“Uh, already died, dingus. Way cooler than this. ‘Network Prime Time’ cooler--remember how Stone Phillips perved over me?” Lilly Kane sat up, making Buffy jump back. “ _You_ qualified for superchickness? Wow, it’s like standards don’t even exist.”

She swung her legs over the side. “Or they’re just, really low or something,” she smirked. “So hey, Elizabeth Anne! What’s up?”

Suddenly, Buffy was too angry to be caught up in herself. “That was _never_ my name! Ask my birth certificate!”

She hated when the dead girl used to...grr.

“Whoa. Almost sound defensive,” said Lilly’s ghost, standing up and walking over to the slayer who flirted with wanting to be. “Why? You don’t wanna be her anyway.”

“Shut up, Lilly.” Buffy never thought she’d get to exercise that reflex again. “And get outta my coma.”

Lilly fired back, “You first.”

 

______

 

She’d leave the “slayer” thing alone for the moment, but she was already exasperated.

“You can’t seriously think you’re the only person who’s ever wished that Daddy and Mommy Dearest stopped having sex before their ‘Do-Over Kid.’

“If there’d been no butt-kissing little bro around to live up to, Jake and Celeste would’ve never...” Lilly trailed off.

If Buffy was imagining Lilly (and why would she?), her imagination was complex.

“But, past, whatever. Doesn’t mean I wanted him...” For a second, Lilly appeared as she had when murdered--pep squad outfit and fatal head wound. “...you know? Loved the Donut.”

“Wishing’s not exactly harmless. Ask Anya. She’ll tell you all you wanna know about consequences.” Buffy was trying to shake the “freshly-murdered” image. “Gets gross.”

She turned, walking right into the memory of baby Dawn.

Lilly shook her head at the bizarre. “She’s not even your sister...she’s like, you. What the hell?”

“It’s complicated,” shrugged Buffy. “She is...even though she isn’t, and...I love her too.”

“Then go help save the damsel who’s in stress. Geez. I shouldn’t hafta come here,” said Lilly, annoyed, going to lay on the dream version of Buffy’s living room couch in Neptune after the scene played out.

“Just ‘cause you decided to turn your superchickness into some like, insanely over-the-top ‘hero complex,’ Life’s supposed to feed it by working out all the time?” she asked Buffy. “Um, okay, breaking news--that so isn’t what Life is. It’s messy. No rules, anything can happen...that’s what made it fun.”

Her grin was wistful, and then her eyes rolled. “And now you’re gonna quit before she’s _actually_ suffocated? Kinda lame.”

 

______

 

If the eternally seventeen-year-old was here to piss Buffy off, it was working. Other than hating how Veronica worshipped her, Buffy also hated how much sense Lilly could make.

“I let her down, and I don’t know what to do. But this isn’t quitting; this is...guilt-tripping.” Buffy let her own words sink in. “I _wouldn’t_ quit on Dawn. I can’t. Physically can’t.”

“Aw. You two really are a match.”

Buffy couldn’t tell whether Lilly was sincere or not.

“Veronica can’t either. My fault, I guess.” Her death had kind of made it impossible for Veronica to ever give up on anything--except an alcoholic mother. “To her though, ‘not quitting’ means like, _doing something_. Get the difference? Maybe the radioactive spider should’ve bit her instead.”

Buffy’s attention was grabbed. “What something?”

Lilly stared like she had in high school at those she deemed unworthy. “Do I look like your narrator, Summers?”

She sat up and leant forward. “What matters, is it’s always for you. Forgetting how she would’ve taken an ashtray to someone’s head for that internship, risking her hotness in the Perminator’s lair of fashion disasters...and finding spare time out of nowhere, to stay available. In case you _must_ get emotional. She’s damn close to being as awesome as I am, huh?”

“I never even asked.” For the first time during this acid trip down memory lane with old rivals, Buffy smiled. “Everything she... especially since my mom...she knows how much I love her for it.”

“Yeah. Sweet.” Lilly’s eyes rolled for a different reason this time, as she gagged. She minded the daggers none. “Let’s show her how all that effort’s paid off then.

“Whatever this warped, so-melodramatic-it’s-stupid ‘Malkovich’ ripoff is?” She gestured broadly, referring to wandering Buffy’s brain. “It oughta prove who’s in charge. Don’t see a Rasta chick--with embarrassing makeup skills and ancient B.O.--around, do you?”

 

______

 

Buffy scanned their surroundings, and when she walked through the front door, they changed to the Magic Box. No, she couldn’t say she did. Not once during the looping.

Lilly spoke impatiently, now at the research table in the shop. “Oh my god, like you haven’t spaced enough today. Grow up.”

“You’re right.”

“Yes! I can rest.” Lilly laid back, quickly placated. “Except you could’ve admitted it when I was alive and saved me from limbo.”

When she was sure Buffy had bought it, she started laughing.

Buffy exhaled, sitting on the small set of steps that led down into the center of the shop. “You’re such a--”

“Without me, you and Veronica wouldn’t have learned from the best.” Lilly hopped off the table, strolled to the counter, and picked up a jar before putting it right back. “Uch. You live here?”

Its contents were...unpleasant.

“You just called your best friend...” Buffy said with disbelief. “Not, um, in a word-saying sense, but you did.”

“Affectionately, so what?” Lilly defended. “Meredith Brooks taught me to love myself...listen sometime. Maybe she’ll still teach you. Otherwise, living’s gonna be the real bitch.”

She approached Buffy. “So you’re leaving, right? ‘Baby sis,’” she air-quoted, “is out there. Our girlfriend too.”

Buffy got to her feet, open-mouthed at Lilly’s use of plural.

“In the platonic-saying sense,” continued Lilly, mocking Buffy’s language.

 

______

 

Suddenly there was a golden glow coming from under the crack of the basement door, where Giles kept storage. It caught Buffy’s eye, and she stood, saying with renewed purpose--

“I’m gone.”

“We totally shouldn’t do this more often.” Lilly saluted a goodbye off her forehead with her middle finger. “Live like I would’ve. And you better do it in a laundry room once, then thank me.”

“I’m sorry you died, Lilly,” Buffy said, going to the shop’s door.

If this was Lilly’s ghost, as long as she was dropping guilt, Buffy wanted that known. The bell above dinged as she opened her exit. Looking back, she asked, “Were you here?”

Lilly’s enigmatic smile was the last sight before her bedroom.

 

________

 

“Hell she get so far?” Faith asked Willow, jogging after the green whatchathing at the same time that Buffy was rejoining the world. “Are we catchin’ up?”

They just turned off Main.

“I-I think so.” Willow’s attempt at confidence sounded rather unconfident. “Yeah.”

If they could afford to stop, Faith would’ve. Dead in her tracks.

“Whaddaya mean, _think so_? What if it’s just headin’ back to the Hundred Acre Wood?” She shook her head. “Picked the wrong time to go big league if you can’t play, Willow.” Who was Faith kidding? “Both did. If we make it, this gonna work?”

“It’s Tara’s spell. She wanted to help the people that Glory made...like she is,” frowned Willow sadly. “But she told me she didn’t have enough power to do it herself, and it only works for one person at a time, because you have to map their essences individually and...and you read Pooh?“

Faith ignored the question, smirking. “Ya mapped her essence?”

Willow flushed. “Sorta...but I don’t have any witchy mojo! I mean, before tonight, the last spell I did was after I put Angel’s soul back. In high school! And that just closed my bedroom door...or it could’ve been windy.”

“You put Hair Gel back in the box? _Cold_? And you dunno why Tara thinks you got juice?” Faith nearly felt a chill at this impressive fact. “Here’s what I don’t get. Hardly know her, and you’re riskin’ this.”

“I’m a good guy! It’s what we do. Save people. However we can,” reacted Willow kind of defensively. “Tara’s a good guy, too. A really nice, ‘good guy’ girl, who likes m...who-who we like. Everybody.” Beat. “I hafta try. Riskiness be damned.”

“Plus, way she fills out those dresses?” Faith made her patented grunting noise. “People say I like it tight.”

 

______

 

She may have been MIA a while, but her sixth sense for horniness couldn’t be beat. Following her suggestive comment, Willow slowed, but didn’t say anything.

Faith assumed her humor was taken wrong again. “Hey, I’m just--“

“No, Faith, look.”

Willow pointed at the sky ahead of them. Not far in the distance, they could see the top of a large tower.

“Xander said they were finally building another Starbucks there...but a few months ago, somebody bought out their lease. It’s been totally abandoned since. It-it’s supposed to be anyway.”

Faith focused like a laser. “Wanna guess what made _that joint_ back off?”

Willow’s eyes grew large with realization. “Why didn’t you let him and Anya come? There’s probably gonna be minions everywhere. We’re only two people, and, uh, not everywhere.”

“Why we’re goin’ in stealth,” Faith said, walking again, still fast, but more cautious. “Scope the layout, get your honey, get Dawn. You do your thing, then ‘til we’re clear, I do mine.

“Buffy wakes up? She’s gonna see her fam still kickin’. I won’t fuck that up.” She almost convinced herself. “Five by five?”

“Uh huh,” said Willow, feeling her anger toward Faith drain.

She hadn’t meant to hurt them, had she?

Just as Willow thought that, Faith pulled her down behind a bench on the sidewalk. “Ow.”

Faith saw that guy from the hospital running and looking paranoid--Dawn in tow--on the other side of the street. “Lucky day.”

Willow gasped, perplexed. “How did he...?”

Ben turned down an alleyway. Dawn didn’t seem altogether happy about being with him. Tara was also finally in view, cowering as he passed, and then grabbing at the green whatchathing.

“Better grab her. Doc’s gotta squeeze us in.”

 

________

 

Keith stepped out onto the front porch to make a call. Inside, Xander was pissed about getting left, while Anya just figured, if they were here they couldn’t die. But while everyone worried about Dawn ending the world by bleeding, something Keith couldn’t wrap his head around (he could help with homework, but that?), he couldn’t stop worrying about Neptune.

He’d asked Faith how it was.

_{“Devil’s playground, Mr. M.”}_

She didn’t just mean at night either.

He knew why it was so bad. In his bones, he knew. There were only two reasons his town could be worse than one with a Hellmouth--Vinnie Van Lowe and Liam Fitzpatrick. Made his blood boil. Neptune had been nothing but unkind, but it was still home. He’d left it in their hands and...

“Hey, Leo, it’s Keith Mars.” He got his former deputy’s voicemail. “Listen, when you get this, give me a buzz? There’s just something I’d like to...run by you. About this guy I’m tracking. Thanks.” He ended the call, and took a deep breath.

Never knew who might be listening.

He walked back into the house, having apparently missed a lot again, because he heard and saw a very mobile Buffy speaking to Xander and Anya.

“...we’re hitting the Magic Box first. It’s probably on the way. This is Sunnydale--everywhere’s on the way. Anya, you’re sure you know...?”

“Yeah. It glows at random and inconvenient times,” complained Anya. “Temporary blindness in a basement filled with extremely fragile, high cost items--”

“Great,” Buffy cut her off, and then noticed Keith. “Xander can you um, start your car? Be right there.”

“C’mon, Ahn,” Xander said.

He didn’t look so pissed anymore.

 

______

 

“How you feeling?” Keith asked with a small smile as his daughter’s girlfriend came over.

“Won’t be doing the ‘catatonic’ thing again,” she assured him.

He glanced back toward the stairs expectantly, and she knew who he was waiting to see.

“Veronica’s not up there. Looks like she stole my brilliant idea and used the window.”

As with every time Veronica went off to do something dangerous, Keith felt that first rush of anger, and then felt his stomach drop. “She can’t have any idea what she’s getting into.”

“Veronica’s the adaptable type,” Buffy gently disagreed. “Think she knows _exactly_ what she’s getting into. Which relaxes. Most of the time.”

Now being the exception. Her first stop after leaving bed was Veronica’s laptop, purposely left un-passworded. She saw all the spy-cam footage of Glory’s loft. How the god fed on her victims, and just who her human vessel was (that that general talked about at the gas station).

Veronica had known. Just not what to do about it.

Watching the truth on tape, recorded, undid the magick whammy hiding Glory’s secret. Veronica must’ve loved that. A camera could see through even mystical lies.

Speaking of her girlfriend, there’d been a sticky-note on Mr. Gordo’s nose:

**^Ask Dad to do his voodoo^**

**______**

“Where is she?” Keith asked.

“I’m not gonna say don’t come. The Slayer might, but I’m Buffy, and she has no right to tell her girlfriend’s dad to not be one. So I’m asking instead--stay here.”

She could tell his knee-jerk reaction, but she put a hand on his arm, silently saying to wait.

“Xander told me Faith’s plan. Mine’s just as non-guaranteed. We don’t know what we’re walking into, but, we also sorta do. This isn’t our first, maybe-apocalypse.”

“But it’s mine,” conceded Keith.

“You’re cop-skilled. You know people; you know predicting them...but Glory isn’t people. Not even a little. She doesn’t know what ‘predictable’ means, and--”

“I get the point.” He spared her from having to continue.

He was a variable they couldn’t afford. Everyone else knew how to keep their cool in these situations. With Veronica there, he couldn’t make that promise.

But Buffy couldn’t stop. “You also have dad skills, the best ever. Except, if they kick in at the wrong time...if something happened and Veronica...”

“You always watched out for her. Still do,” he told her gratefully, hands on her shoulders, trust in his eyes. “I won’t make you promise anything, just...keep it up.”

She hugged the man. His trust meant everything. “She’s coming back, Mr. Mars. Everybody is. Haven’t worked out all the details, but my friends, and my sister, are living through this.”

 

______

 

And the Slayer, that loner, solitary part of her and Faith, was going to help, whether it liked it or not. She was Buffy, damn it, and...oh yeah. Voodoo.

“Ooh, uh,” Her hug reached its natural endpoint, “Veronica has her cell turned off, and we need to find her. Then we find the rest of the gang. You know how, right?”

Buffy remembered that day at Hearst. He’d shown up out of the blue looking for Weevil, and Veronica’s cell had been off then, too. It served as a reminder that Keith would always be one step ahead.

He nodded, staring down at her solemnly. “If I show you, you’ll need to protect this secret at all costs. Until you’re of a very old age, and so senile, that even if it did spill out, no one would believe it.

“But most importantly, Veronica never knows. It’s the only card I have left to hold over her; the only thing I can still brag about. Don’t take that away from me, Buffy.”

No, no, no, no. He wasn’t putting her in this position.

“Me, hide something? From _Veronica_?” She swallowed. “Have you _met_ her?”

 

________

 

“I didn’t ask for any of this!” Ben insisted to Willow and Faith (Tara in tow), now that they’d caught up to him and Dawn in the one-way alley. “I just wanted a normal life.”

“Yeah, you got it tough, ‘Casey,’” Faith said. Like he knew _anything_ about a shitty life? “See how it could suck, few years out, gettin’ paid all that green. Me, I like red.”

Her eyes moved from the doctor-in-training to Dawn. “Back away from the kid. Slow.”

He released Dawn’s arm and held his up. “Take her out of here. Fast as you can. I barely got us this far; Glory could come back any second.”

Dawn ran to her friends and hugged the slayer, vice-like. “Faith! Oh my god! You’re here!”

“She doesn’t have to come back,” said Veronica, surprising all present. “You must’ve thought about it.”

The girls turned around to see her walking deeper into the alley, looking past them and directly at Ben. If this were any other situation, she would’ve made a crack about his ceremonial gown.

“Veronica?” Willow had no idea where she’d come from.

Veronica didn’t acknowledge anyone but her mark. She kept walking until only a few feet separated them.

Faith just watched, even as alarms went off in her head.

“What’re you talking...?” Ben trailed off.

Veronica pulled a gun from her bag. It didn’t take long for the tension to ratchet up.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “Sorry destiny came knocking when a Dodge Dart was probably rocking, making your entire life _blow_ from the Big Bang on. Nobody so pretty deserves that. Or this.”

She pointed her father’s spare piece, freed from the office safe, at exactly who she meant to. Her hands didn’t shake.

“But you need to die.”


	7. Seven

_‘Are Mexican stand-offs supposed to be this crowded?’_ Veronica thought, gun still trained on Ben as Willow objected out of moral principle.

“He’s the human vessel, Willow,” Veronica finally enlightened them, hoping it would stem other interruptions before her hands _did_ shake. “Glory’s jail cell for the past twenty-five years? Bells ringing yet?”

Willow, Faith and Dawn, from left to right, had formed a half-circle behind Veronica, bordering the action. Ben had backed up as far as he could go without literally having his back against the wall. One shot, that’s all it would take. No portals opening, no big battle, no chance of anyone dying but him.

“Oooh. Ding dong.” Willow got it--kill the mortal, kill the immortal--but believing was another story. “Wait, _Ben_ is Glory? Him ‘Ben’? You’re sure? Sure ‘sure’?”

Thank god the spell seemed to be breaking down.

“I’d show you the evidence, but I have my hand full,” Veronica told her. “And even if I hadn’t collected any...his choice of evening wear? Clue.”

Ben’s shoulders just slumped. “If you’re going to, just do it.”

Hearing it said aloud--twenty-five-years--made him feel so tired. How could he keep pretending?

Faith was still trying to catch up. “What, he’s the bottle, she’s the genie?”

Veronica looked apologetically at Ben again.

“Woulda been nice to know,” glared Faith.

“I didn’t know! Not that it was Ben!” Willow reacted guiltily, though she had no reason to. “But if he’s her and she’s her too, um, when-when he isn’t him, then you _really_ can’t. Super really.”

Veronica bit her lip to contain the frustration that wanted to escape. “It’s not like I’m doing cartwheels over it--“

“We need Glory. For Tara.”

Frak. Veronica looked over at the lost Tara and felt her arm start to lower. She could mention the greater good, sacrifice, but it would be a lie. She was only doing this for a girl. Same as Willow.

“She’s...she’s...” Ben’s eyes were panicked.

Before he could get anything else out, before they could move, he’d morphed into his feminine side. It was happening quicker now. There was barely any warning.

There was absolutely _none_ before Glory grabbed Veronica’s wrist and broke it, sending the gun clattering to the ground. Veronica’s cry of pain couldn’t be stopped.

“A girl loves to hear she’s needed.”

 

________

 

Meanwhile, in Xander’s car, they’d retrieved what they’d gone for at the Magic Box, so tires burned rubber. There were butterflies, anvils of nervousness, fear of the uncertain, of what the night might bring, but he was sure of something. At least, he thought so.

“Marry me,” he blurted.

“ _What_?!” Anya in the passenger seat, and Buffy in the backseat, exclaimed in tandem.

Realizing who he’d been looking at, tandem speech continued.

“Oh.”

 

________

 

“You’ve probably been braggin’ it around, haven’t you? Telling everyone how you got off Glory’s hook without all your pieces in bloody, yummy, bite-size bits.” Glory pulled Veronica eye-to-eye with her, so she could see the fear. “Baby, you don’t get away from me--I’m a god. With time to kill. But that’s no fun...hey, can I kill you?”

As fast as she’d grabbed her, she let Veronica go, grabbing her head instead. “No! You’re not...”

And Glory became Ben again. “...killing any more people!”

Faith pulled Veronica over to the rest of them, and away from the “multiple-personality-on-steroids” freak-show. Dr. Jeckyll and Ms. Hyde, as it were.

“Take Dawn, and frigging haul ass,” whispered Faith as Veronica cradled her wrist. “You’re outta the game. You wanna keep B in? Get little sis movin’, Tink. Go.”

Faith was right. Even though Veronica wasn’t one to take orders, there wasn’t time to argue. She and Dawn started to run to the alley’s exit.

“She wanted to put a bullet in your squishy, little brain! Moron!” Glory was back.

But not for long.

“You get what you want, I’m dead anyway. And if I’d had the guts to do it myself...” Ben saw the gun and picked it up, pointing it under his chin. “I still can.”

He struggled to keep his own arm right where it was, but it flung away in a wide arc.

Glory kept hold of the gun as she regained form and control. “No! _No_. Too late to start growing a backbone, Benjamin. Now be good and stay quiet.”

Faith and Willow could see her physically fighting to prevent him from emerging.

“No...you...don't! Get over yourself, Ben! This is the way things are! I'm strong, you're weak, and you always have been. Stop trying to infect me with your...”

Ben returned. “Do you ever stop talking? I don't know which is worse, waking up in a dress not knowing where I've been, or having to hear all your self-involved ranting.”

Then Glory. “Animal...”

“Wrong, Glory.” Him again. “I'm no animal. This is humanity you're feeling. Welcome to the world.”

“Stupid, pointless _meatworm_!” she yelled in anger, and her unstable emotions switched up again. “You’re the one who’s got it wrong, Benji. If somebody up there likes you, you might just ascend beyond pointless. I get home, I could like you like a lot. So shut up and give big sister room to work. Nothing’s ruining her day.”

Raising the gun in the air, she fired a shot over her head that seemed to echo everywhere. She turned it on Tara.

“Bring back my Key or the witch gets a hole in the head.”

 

________

 

Forget tracking. Everyone in the car heard the sound. They were close, and possibly too late.

“Xander...” That was all Buffy had to say.

“There already.”

He made a sharp turn.

 

________

 

In the alley, Veronica and Dawn froze at the shot.

“Come get it yourself!” That challenge came from Dawn, impressing her would-be rescuer.

It also shocked Glory enough to allow Willow to grab a heavy, metal chain from atop the dumpster to her left. She used both hands and all her strength to whip it down on Glory’s gun-hand, making the weapon fall again. Nobody saw it land.

They were too busy watching Faith seize momentary advantage and tackle Glory to the ground. Dawn and Veronica hurriedly continued their retreat. Those precious seconds were enough.

 A car pulled up right where freedom was. The rear door opened to let somebody out. That somebody being Buffy. She effortlessly wielded troll hammer in one hand, and Beast-repelling, Dagon Sphere, in the other.

“Get in,” she urged her sister.

“Faith...”

“...is gonna hurt you if she finds out you had a chance to get away and didn’t.”

Buffy didn’t plan this. Wished she could say she had, but she was improvising on the fly. Hearing the shot, she’d just wanted to put another obstacle in Glory’s path. Which yes, would’ve been bad for Xander’s car.

“In,” ordered Buffy, and as soon as Dawn listened, she shut the door behind her. “Drive!”

Its wheelman didn’t hesitate. Buffy knew Xander wanted to be here, but she was trusting him with the most important person in her life. Well, aside from the one attempting a relieved smile in spite of broken wrist pain.

“Forget it,” Veronica said before Buffy could repeat herself.

While elated inside to see her girlfriend live and animate, Veronica didn’t want to see her here.

Her sister getting farther and farther away, Buffy lasered in on Veronica’s damaged appendage.

“That’s it...Glory’s done. There’s only one tiny blonde woman who isn’t me I can put up with--nobody touches my McFartsy.” Her tone betrayed no humor. “Unless _I’m_ doing, and naked.”

Buffy was certainly back.

 

________

 

“Shouldn’t there only be one of you Mighty Mouses?” Glory asked, having gotten the upper hand, lifting Faith by her tank top. “Who the hell are you?”

“Her name’s Faith,” supplied Buffy, announcing her presence.

“Who cares.” Glory casually slammed Faith into the dumpster lid, hard enough for the other slayer’s body to leave an indentation before it rolled off.

“Us,” Willow answered.

Glory didn’t spare her a glance. “Where’ve you been, Buffy? If I’d noticed you weren’t here, I could’ve missed you.”

She couldn’t see her ticket home anymore. “Wouldn’t know where Miss Muffet scampered her sassy self to, wouldja?”

“Really not your biggest problem right now,” Buffy pointed out, throwing something in Glory’s direction. “Catch.”

Glory did so on reflex, not realizing what it was. She felt the Dagon Sphere before seeing. It caused a full body migraine from the inside out, even as she dropped it to the ground. Didn’t break until she smashed it with her foot.

Willow saw her window as Buffy threw the Sphere. It was almost good that she didn’t have time to think. She got Tara next to Glory, then she got between both of them.

When Glory’s foot came down, Willow’s fingers jammed into each woman’s head. White light emanated from Glory’s, and acting as conduit, Willow passed that light into Tara’s. The two females who were human, succumbed to unconsciousness.

 

______

 

Not Glory though, who looked woozy, feverish. How could she have noticed the troll hammer in time for her face to dodge it?

Buffy channeled pent up anger and aggression, all her grief, into every swing. Again and again and again. It wasn’t a slayer doing this; an emotionally, physically exhausted sister and girlfriend was. She’d been waiting. 

No quips, no taunting, no heroic declarations.

Just THOMP. And THOMP. And THOMP. An immortal head being thwacked back and forth.

“Stop.” Was that a beg?

“You’re a god,” Buffy reminded, “make it stop.”

Fine. _One_ taunt.

She didn’t think she’d ever seen Glory bleed. Amazingly, her enemy hadn’t collap...bingo. There went those godly knees.

As they buckled, Ben morphed back. He looked as thrashed as his evil half. Before he fell completely, and before Buffy decided whether she could take his life--

CRRRRACK. He crumbled lifelessly to the alley floor.

Faith stood there, arms positioned like they were still around his neck. When she snapped it.

 

________

 

Alley. Lifeless eyes. Staring at nothing. Again.

Faith was white as a sheet as she stared at Ben. Returning to the dumpster with images and memories in her head, she threw open the lid and emptied her stomach. Closing it a few seconds later, she placed her hands there for support, and just, went away.

Had her answer. Didn’t she?

Veronica moved up next to Buffy and looked down at the dead body. The last she’d seen was Lilly’s (not counting the iced hand of Abel Koontz’s daughter). This was different.

She hadn’t almost been the one to make it dead. She turned her gaze to Faith. “I’ll...get Willow and Tara. Talk to her.”

“Your wrist,” Buffy argued.

“Pain’s all mental--it’ll wait,” said Veronica, holding back a grimace that would’ve sold her out, and cradling her arm. “Go.”

While she bent down to rouse their friends and avoid Ben, Buffy went to Faith.

 

______

 

“You came back.”

“You too,” Faith said after it seemed like she wouldn’t.

“Know Dawn’s glad. So am I,” Buffy told her, and then said what she really wanted to. “Thank you.”

Faith met her eyes. “Couldn’t let ya, B.”

“Why, ‘cause I’m the hero, and you’re not?” Buffy’s sarcasm had a dark edge. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Means it ain’t in you. Shouldn’t be.” Faith tossed her thumb backwards in the direction of Ben. “Came close to findin’ out about Veronica, though.”

“Or it means doing what nobody else has the guts to,” offered Buffy alternatively, internalizing that comment about Veronica. “You saved the world tonight, Faith; you saved my sister.”

“Don’t feel like I did.” Felt like breaking a guy’s neck.

“Never does.” Buffy walked on sympathetic eggshells. “Feels like just surviving. But the world has our friends in it, so we save. Sounds sorta selfish I guess, but Superman’s the only one who saves for reasons unselfish.

“I’m not a building-leaper; I’m Buffy. I live in Sunnydale. I have friends. And I help make sure they’ll keep living here too, ‘cause I can. Like you did.” Beat. “Besides, costumes would be itchy.”

The corner of Faith’s mouth twitched, but it was brief. “He had to die.” Her voice pleaded for reassurance.

Buffy nodded. “And I wouldn’t’ve been able. So then Glory rehabs and wraths the town to death. Did I mention ‘thank you’?” She saw a storm brewing behind those brown eyes. “Was it easy?”

Faith slumped down, back against the dumpster. “Hell no.”

Buffy crouched. She wouldn’t let her sister slayer be lower than her. “I’m thinking no vomit if it had been. You’re a good person. A good person that had to do a sad, necessary thing.”

“Yeah? That what I am?”

_{“Then who the fuck are you, huh?”}_

“Says me,” smiled Buffy. “You need to start believing, and stop comparing. I let my sister get kidnapped and got a whole army massacred. See? Not saintly, not better. Sometimes we’re hero-like, but mostly? I’m just Buffy, you’re just Faith, and that’s okay.”

Being herself was what Faith was afraid of. She liked Buffy’s answer better, but it still meant she was a good guy operating in gray. What happened in the event gray went black?

“We’re all here.” Buffy stood and offered her hand. “You don’t hafta disappear.”

She pulled Faith up when her hand was accepted. “But if you wanted to go back to Boston and seriously think about making out with your best friend over the summer, I’d totally understand.”

 

________

 

Gun, gun...there. Veronica reached for it with her good hand, and on the way back up, saw Tara leaning against a bloody-nosed Willow. Hands clasped at their sides, they walked slowly from the scene. It was nice. Something sweet would emerge from this alley.

“That’s your dad’s,” Buffy said behind her, catching her girlfriend unaware.

What was she going to say? Nothing. She simply held Veronica’s bag open so the gun could drop in. Together, they watched Faith close Ben’s eyes. Like a soldier in war.

“Giles made a call,” Veronica saw the question in Buffy’s eyes.

She knew not to plan a murder without a “clean up” plan. She didn’t get an A on that paper for nothing.

“Once we aren’t here, he won’t be either, was the gist.”

Surprised, Buffy asked, “The Council?”

“Didn’t ask.” This was killing Veronica; she needed a reaction.

“C’mon, you need a doctor.” Buffy carefully slipped an arm around Veronica’s waist, and they followed Willow and Tara.

“There’s an idea. Because, and sorry if this blows your mind...whatever the hell I said before? About that pain I’m in? All a lie. One of my more subtle and underplayed, but still.”

Buffy looked back. “Faith, can you call Xander? He can take us...if he’s not in Mexico already.”

“Yeah...” Faith agreed distractedly, looking at her victim. “Yeah. No problem.”

 

________

 

The doctor who’d set Veronica’s wrist and outfitted it with a splint, left to make the rest of his rounds as Buffy came past the curtain. They knew her here; she’d brought in many a vamp victim to the ER, and they didn’t deny her access.

“Hey,” greeted Veronica softly, sitting over the side of the exam table. “How’s Giles?”

“Almost as grouchy a patient as me. I’ve never seen him clean his glasses so hard,” Buffy joked. “How’re you?”

Veronica showed off the splint. “I wanted something...more in a bionic, but our insurance isn’t as comprehensive as Dad likes to think.”

“Oh, got your camera back. Her whole lair was uber-tacky. Scooch,” requested Buffy, and hopped up beside.

Sanitary paper crinkled under her butt.

“Were you actually...?”

“To keep you from dying in any and all senses of the word? Yes,” Veronica told her, not shying from it. “I thought there’d be more surprise, how much I--“

Buffy’s lips cut her off tenderly, for a full, uninterrupted minute. Showing would always come across more effectively than telling. What Veronica sacrificed, what she was willing to...score one for Lilly again. Bitch.

“I’m back. To permanently stay.”

Veronica felt as much. She was just glad she hadn’t scared Buffy away. When she smiled, it was teeth and all.

“Had me worried.”

“I had me worried,” admitted Buffy. “But I’m gonna show Mom I can deal. You too. ‘Buffy’ isn’t going anywhere.”

Veronica’s free arm went under her girlfriend’s. “What brought you out of it?”

“Uh, know how you were haunted? Dream-wise?”

Veronica couldn’t be called “slow.” Her jaw slacked. “ _Lilly_?”

Unfortunately for her dogged curiosity, Keith Mars made his appearance. “Who’s your daddy?”

She managed to tear her attention away, and look penitent. “Depends. Still wanna claim me as your own?”

“From age ten on, your resale value’s only been decreasing. I’d have to pay someone to take you now. That ship has sailed, honey.”

Buffy pushed off the table as father enveloped daughter, letting them have their enviable moment. But she still had family. Dawn was probably going crazy in the waiting room.

“So you’ll never guess what was left just, lying around in the back of Xander’s car.”

As Buffy breached the curtain, Veronica’s voice rooted her feet to their spot.

“It _looked like_ some sort of device used to track.”

Buffy Summers loved Veronica Mars, but, _beep_.


End file.
